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noladyme · 4 years ago

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The Princess Frog. Epilogue

She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria. Instead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All sound tracked by an endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

I hope you have enjoyed reading this, as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future writings.

- no lady

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@ayamenimthiriel

Epilogue - The Queen Frog

It was spring. The flowers in my private garden were budding; and a few were in full bloom – making them ripe for harvest. I walked past the chamomile; inhaling the sweet smell. It made me think of my Tootie. Thrude had passed a year ago – Eist having sent a letter with the information, and his warm condolences. Not long after, Mousesack had visited me. His grief was deep; but he had told me that seeing me still wearing her frog around my neck, brought him much joy.

“Mousesack; was I hurting Thrude, when she healed me as a child? Was she draining herself for me?”, I’d asked. The wizard laughed out loud. “Do you think all she was feeding you was chamomile and honey?”, he guffawed. “My dear; Thrude had years of training as a vöelve before you were even born. She knew how to heal using plants and other medicines; that was what she was using on you”. He took my hand. “She also didn’t have your powers. She was teaching you how to use what you had naturally in you; by using the words, that would help you in the future”.

And I was learning to use them properly. Triss saw to that.

Ylva had got a cut to her arm while in a tussle with a drunkard in a tavern, who had told her women couldn’t be soldiers. She’d insisted she didn’t need treatment; but I couldn’t let my personal guard walk around with cuts and bruises that might fester. So, I was preparing a poultice of celandine and wolfs aloe. Saoirsheen walked up to me, as I was kneeling in one of the flowerbeds.

“Your majesty, he’s here!”, she smiled broadly. Saoirsheen had been with me, as my lady in waiting, ever since Cynnes had passed from old age three years before.

My heart leapt; and I smiled broadly. “Where is he?”, I asked, almost giddily. “He’s shoving grapes into his mouth in your dining room”, she smirked. I quickly wiped my hands in my apron, and took it off; handing it to her. “How long has it been?”, she asked. I frowned. “Not since Foltests and my two year anniversary, I think”, I answered. “There was that midsummer feast the year after that”, she smiled. I scoffed a laugh. “Yes, but he was piss-drunk; and had his face buried in the countess De Stael’s cleavage”, I said. “Right”, Saoirsheen laughed.

I walked into the door of the kitchen; then made my way up the stairs, and down a hallway to my private chambers. Ajvin was standing outside the door to my dining room. “Is it true, my queen?”, he asked; his voice shaking with excitement. “Is it really him? Will you introduce me?”. I smiled and nodded. “I will, Ajvin”, I said. “You will see him at the feast, and I will introduce you to him. Maybe he’ll even let you accompany him in a song”. I winked at the man. “For now, I need to speak to him privately”. Ajvin nodded. “Yes, your majesty”, he said, and stepped aside.

I opened the doors to the room. I never had guards outside my chambers – or inside – except for Ylva. It made me feel uncomfortable to constantly be watched by anyone else.

By the end of the large table – in my own seat, no less – sat a blue eyed; brightly smiling man.

“Jaskier!”, I said. The bard sprang to his feet. He ran over to me; and took my outstretched hand; kissing it. “Princess!”, he smiled. I raised a brow at him. “Queen…”, I smirked. Jaskiers smile broadened into a grin. I put my arms around him for a warm hug.

We went to sit by the table. I gave the bard a light tap over the back of his head, when he went for my chair. He took a seat next to it instead. “Did you eat most of the fruit already?”, I jeered. “I had to”, Jaskier answered. “I was worried you might start throwing it around if I didn’t”. I laughed. “How have you been?”, I asked. “You know…”, he said. “Travelling. Falling in love. Performing. Falling out of love. Almost died from a djinn-attack…”. “That sounds like a story!”, I said. He smiled. “I haven’t written the song yet”, he winked at me. “So, my queen. You have asked me to come here for a certain reason”.

I nodded. “Adda’s 20’th birthday-celebration”, I said. “She was very clear that she wanted the great bard Jaskier to perform. I think she has a crush on you, from when she saw you at that midsummer feast two years ago”. Jaskier’s face lit up. “Really?”, he asked. I frowned at him. “Don’t even think about it bard; or I’ll have Ylva cut of your bollocks and serve them to you on a plate”, I said menacingly. “Besides; she’s still… having troubles controlling herself; after her difficult beginnings as a striga”. Jaskiers face scrunched up. “I’ll make sure not to butter that biscuit, then”, he muttered. I threw a grape at his head. He laughed. “There she is…”, he smirked.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. “He’s here…”, Jaskier suddenly said. I looked at him; my breath hitching. “Here?”, I said. Jaskier nodded. “He owed me a favor from… almost getting me killed”, he answered. “I insisted he travel with me here, as my bodyguard”. I smirked. “Last time you did that; he ended up with a child of surprise”, I said. The bard laughed nervously. “Yes well, I trust you don’t have any pregnant princesses wandering the halls”. I scoffed a laugh. “No pregnancies here”, I said. “We avoid them. Like the plague”.

Jaskier sighed. “He wanted to come”. “He said that?”, I asked, and poured myself a goblet of mead. It was Jaskier’s turn to scoff. “It’s Geralt. Does he ever say anything, unless he has to?”. He used to say many things, I thought to myself.

I took a large sip of my drink. “The feast”, I said. “Tonight. You will perform?”. Jaskier nodded. “Of course. But I thought you already had a court-bard.”. “We do”, I laughed. “But in all honesty; he’s terrible”. Jaskier laughed. “Why keep him?”. I smiled warmly. “He’s a good boy; our Ajvin”, I said. “And he’s managed to spawn 4 children with his wife. He needs the pay”. Jaskier grabbed my hand. “You’re a good queen, your majesty”, he said. “And a kind woman”. I grinned at him. “Maybe; but I still have the mouth of a fucking sailor!”.

We laughed together; when suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Yes?”, I called. My good friend – the court-enchantress – stepped in. “Triss!”, I smiled. “You’ve arrived! How was Aretuza?”. She smiled. “Filled with the grunts and moanings of old men; as per usual. I’ve come to celebrate the princess. I’m in desperate need of some cheer and good times”. I stepped over to give her a hug. “Well then”, I said. “Let’s have them!”. Triss nodded. “Yes”, she said. “But tomorrow – training!”. I scoffed. “I’ll be hung over…”. The enchantress smirked at me. “All the more reason to train. It’ll wake up your brain”.

I hadn’t used my powers for anything serious since my run in with O’Dimm. There had never been reason to. But they remained there; and I knew I had to control them.

Saoirsheen came into the room then. “Your majesty. I was unsure whether you wanted the velvet or the silk gown tonight”. I frowned. “Hel’s ass; can’t I just wear pants?”, I said. Triss laughed behind me. “Come, bard”, she said. “Our Zaba has preparations to make”.

They went to leave through the door. “Jaskier!”, I called after them. “If you sing that song…”. I looked at him menacingly. He grinned at me. “I’ll take my chances”, he winked; and he and Triss left the room.

---

I was standing in my bedchamber; brushing my hair. He’s here. It was like a jolt through my body, just thinking of Jaskier’s words. I wondered if he’d changed. I knew I had. I was older; though only a few years – but I knew that those years on the throne, had rid me of at least some of the rough edges of my former life.

I’d taken my role as queen seriously. My husband had been respectful, even kind. And he listened to me; and guided me through the complicated politics of court life. I recalled how terrified I’d been; standing in front of the grim man at our wedding. Not a smile had ghosted his face at any point of the ceremony. Just hardness. So I had taken him as being that. Hard. Cold. I’d had so much to learn.

Our wedding had been grand. I’d kept from crying my way through it, by reminding myself of the people that needed me to be here. Jaskier had told his most thrilling stories, and sung his best songs – even on my wedding-day I could not avoid The Foulmouthed Princess of the Skellige Isles. It had made my new husband laugh heartily. The first time I saw him smile.

I remembered that night with him – our wedding night – as we had shared a meal in private; before we were to go to bed.

I was picking at my food; heart in my throat from what was to come. And I remembered Geralts eyes before he turned around, and walked out of my life. “My lady”, my new husband suddenly said. Not my queen or my wife. “It is vital to me, that I make it clear, why you are here”. I gulped. “I am at your disposal; your majesty”, I whispered. “I need a queen at my side; and a mother for my daughter”. Foltest drained his goblet, and looked at me. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the urge for a bedmate; so, I shan’t be bothering you for that”.

I was flabbergasted; sat, mouth agape. The king took my hand in his own two. “You will have a crown; a home; and public displays of my chaste love. And your cousin and his wife will have my armies”. He looked down. “My heart still belongs to my daughters’ mother; however repulsive you might find that. I hope you can live with me on these terms. If not…”.

I sighed, swallowed; and looked up at him, meeting his pained eyes. “And what of friendship, and respect?”, I said. “Friendship?”, Foltest asked.

“I can live with you on your terms. But I cannot be a puppet to be put on display, whenever it suits your majesty. I wish to be heard; and seen as a queen and woman in my own right”.

Foltest stifled a laughter, and narrowed his eyes at me. “I was told you’d be a handful”, he murmured. “I will treat you with whatever respect you earn from me; and I promise never to be unkind. Should this seem to you as friendship, I have nothing against it. I’ll welcome it”.

I smiled and nodded. “Then you have your wife”.

He put a chaste kiss on my hand. “And you have a husband”.

So, I was queen. And it was good, for many people. My cousin. His wife. Those were less important to me.

But then there were people like Saoirsheen; and others like her; who needed a safe haven, that I now had the power to create for them.

Ajvin and Lysa; and their brood of children. The bard sang and performed as best he could – bringing cheer and laughter to the courts hearts, every time he played a false note.

Filivandrel and his people – whom I’d promised to stop Nilgaard from using me for evil.

Ylva and her pack. She’d never gone back; but in stead was now my greatest protector and personal guard. Flaxon had showed up shortly after the wedding with a sour expression on his lips; and I’d informed my husband of his crimes. “Your majesty; you’d belive this woman over me?”, Flaxon said. “You ask me if I believe my wife – the queen – over you?”, Foltest said. “Yes, Flaxon. I do”. He’d been stripped of his rank; and now spent his days in a Maribor cell. The one I had been placed in myself, those years back.

Five years. Five years of learning and growing. Days of boring meetings, where my husband would roll his eyes at me behind the back of his counsellors. Days of working with Triss; and riding the fields and forests outside Vizima, on my stallion – Bayrd. I’d been a mother. Not to a child I had given birth to myself; but to a teenaged girl with a troubled heart and mind. And I’d guided her, best as I could, with the help of Triss. I would tell her fairytales about moonwraiths and witchers, succubi and bards. And I’d stroked her hair when she could not sleep from nightmares. I loved Adda, and she loved me. But she was difficult.

Saoirsheen joined me in my chamber; carrying a purple velvet gown. “Oh gods”, I said. “Not that one!”. Saoirsheen smiled. “The princess insisted”, she smiled. “Mother looks so pretty in that one, she said”. I sighed defeatedly. “Fine”, I said, and took the bundle of fabric from my ladys hands. Saoirsheen went to look for shoes for me. “Would you like to take a bath before the feast?”. “No”, I said. “After. I think I’ll need it to calm my nerves”. The half elf smiled. “He’s in the courtyard”, she said. I looked at her. “Thank you, Saoirsheen”. She set a pair of shoes on the floor in front of the bed, and took her leave.

I walked to the window; and looked down into the courtyard. I found him instantly.

He was talking to one of the stable-hands; with a very serious expression on his face. The man nodded – looking terrified – and took the reins of a red mare from him; leading it into the stable. “Not next to the black stallion!”, I heard the witcher growl after him.

My breath hitched; and – as if he’d heard me – he looked up. His amber eyes found mine; and I parted my lips – having to remind myself to breathe. Looking at me; his expression was warm and strangely sorrowful. His lips twitched into a smile for a second.

It was as if we stood there for hours; just looking at each other. Suddenly, his head turned; and I saw Jaskier walking towards him. The bard patted his shoulder, and said a few words; before looking up and meeting my eyes with a grin. I nodded at them both; and stepped away from the window.

I had to sit on the edge of the bed for a second; to control my shaking hands. Saoirsheen came back into the room. “The king is expecting you, madam”, she said. I nodded; and begun the task of getting dressed.

Purple velvet; draping over my body; like a 10 layer cake. White, frilly lacing across my chest, and at the bottom of the sleeves and skirt. I put on my necklace – the one with the small frog landing between my breasts. Saoirsheen managed to tame my hair into a somewhat regal style; and I went to join my husband, outside my chambers.

Foltest took my hand and kissed it. “You look beautiful, my queen”, he said warmly. “I look like a fucking dessert”, I said. He chuckled; and led me down the stairs to the great hall.

---

Horns blared when we entered the room. “Yes, yes. We’re here now”, I muttered bellow my breath.

Adda was already dancing; sashaying around a young count, who was having great difficulty in keeping up with her energy. I nodded at Triss, who was in deep conversation with a visiting wizard from Ban Ard - looking terribly bored.

Foltest and I went to our thrones – ridiculous things that I hated sitting on – to overlook the festivities. Adda looked at us and waved, with a grin on her face. Jaskier was playing a happy jaunt; and she skipped over to him, twirling around in front of him. He smiled cheekily; before looking at me. I raised a brow at him, and winked, then gestured at Ylva; who was lurking menacingly in a corner. The bard gave a nervous giggle, and returned his focus to his lute.

“We’ll have to get her married off soon”, my husband murmured. I sighed. “Yes, well… you know how I feel about that”. He frowned. “She’ll have the choice of man she wants”, he said. “I just hope she makes the right one”. I squeezed his hand. “We’ll guide her”.

“I received a letter from your cousin today”, Foltest said; taking a sip from his goblet. I’d turned him on to Skelliger mead. “With 10 barrels of your favorite, I’m guessing”, I said. He chuckled. “You know me too well”, Foltest chuckled. “He sends his best, and speaks of his grandchild”. I clenched my jaw. “Anything in particular?”. I had not seen Eist in years; and knew very little about his and Calanthes grandchild – the child of Pavetta. Pavetta herself, had drowned while travelling from Skellige to Cintra; and I knew that it must have broken Calanthes heart; making her overly protective of the child. “Not much. It grows healthily”, Foltest said. “Good”, I said quietly.

I was deep in thought, when suddenly the king sat up straight. “Is that the witcher? Geralt of Rivia?”. I looked up.

The doors had opened; and there stood Geralt – stripped of his weapons, and looking very uncomfortable. My mouth opened; but I couldn’t speak. “I haven’t seen him since he brought you here”, Foltest said. “Five years”, I muttered. “Yes”, my husband agreed. “I owe him a great thanks for his service”, he said smilingly. I tried to match his smile; feeling very short of breath. “Bring him forward”, the king said to his crier. I dug my fingers into the armrest of my throne; convinced that I’d fall of my seat if I didn’t.

“Geralt of Rivia; witcher!”, the crier called out, and an embarrassed looking Geralt stepped forward. He looked at Foltest, and nodded. “Your majesty”, he said. His voice still sent shivers down my spine – dark and brusque, but bellow it, a great warmth. His eyes met mine; and he got on one knee – bowing to me. Geralt doesn’t bow to anyone. He took my hand; and kissed it – the feeling of his lips to my skin an instant reminder, of where else on my body they had been. “My queen”, he muttered. He stood back up, facing Foltest.

“Witcher”, the king said solemnly. “When I saw you last, I did not thank you, for your protection and care of my wife”. Geralt smiled. “The honor was mine”, he said. Foltest laughed. “Come now, witcher!”, he said. “We both know she can be a bloody pain in the ass!”. Geralt laughed; and I bit my cheek to avoid saying something un-queenly. “None the less, my friend”, Foltest said. “I am honored to have you here for this celebration. Just don’t start any fights, or claim any children”, he jeered.

Geralt looked at me somberly. “Am I to understand congratulations are in order?”. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “No”, I said quickly. The first word I had spoken to him in five years. Foltest took my hand. “Alas, the gods have not blessed our union with any children”. He looked at me meaningfully. I smiled. Geralt narrowed his eyes at me.

Foltest drained his goblet. “Well”, he said. “I brought you forward to thank you, and so I will. Thank you, witcher”. He kissed my hand. “Now; I will go dance with my daughter. Sit with my wife; entertain her. She’s been very bored lately; I’ve noticed”. Foltest got up; and went to join Adda.

Geralt sat down in the chair next to me. We were quiet for a while. “A-are you well?”, I stammered. “I am”, he grumbled. We were quiet for a moment longer. “And you?”, he said. “Yes”, I smiled. Geralt looked towards the floor, where my husband was lifting my stepdaughter into the air; and twirling her around – to great applause and cheer from the guests. Jaskier was making a grimace; and trying to nod approvingly at Ajvin; who was playing his best rendition of The Fishmongers Daughter.

Geralts body so close to mine sent waves of warmth through me. “Does he… treat you well?”, the witcher asked. I smiled. “He treats me like a queen”, I answered. Geralt grunted. “With all that entails…”.

I looked at him and laughed. “Are you jealous of my husband, witcher?”. He scoffed. “What? The sweaty sister fucker?”. I frowned softly. “My husband…”, I began. “My marriage… it’s turned out very differently than what I had imagined. In spite of the sister fucking”. I took a large gulp of my mead. “How so?”. Geralt lifted a brow at me.

I sat up straight; trying to look completely at ease with our conversation. It wasn’t like it was his business – but I felt that he should know. “My husbands… carnal desires, aren’t much to speak of”, I smiled meekly. “I haven’t been with a man since…”. I bit my lip. “Your wedding night”, Geralt said. I met his eyes. “Since you…”. Geralt looked stunned. “Oh!... well…Fuck!”, he said. I smiled. “Well, not really”, I said. He chuckled and nodded. “Right…”.

Foltest came back to sit with me; panting. “I am getting to old for this”, he said, out of breath. “Do you dance, witcher?” “I do not”, Geralt chuckled. I smiled. “You don’t dance. You don’t sing”. I raised a brow at him. “Is there anything you do?”. He smirked at me. “Kill monsters and tame frogs”. I laughed. Geralt stood up and nodded his head at us. “I should go fulfill my duties to the bard”, he sneered. Jaskier was being held against a wall by a baron; who’s blushing wife stood by, looking at the scene. Geralt took my hand, and kissed it again. “Your majesty”, he said softly. He narrowed his eyes at me. “That dress looks ridiculous on you”, he whispered. I chuckled in response. The witcher went to help his friend.

“He made you happy”, Foltest muttered. I looked at him in shock. He squeezed my hand and smiled warmly at me. “I might be old, but I’m not blind”. I looked down. “I want you to be happy, wife”, my husband said softly. I sighed. “He did”. Foltest nodded. “We need drinks and music. Bard! Sing that song we talked about”.

Jaskier – having been let lose by the baron – stepped onto the middle of the floor; and began.

“Once a lady from Kaer Trolde fared, with skin so smooth, and beautiful hair. She held the heart of many a man; but mouths stood agape, when she speaking began.”

Foul mouthed lady, be kind onto me And I’ll be your thrall, I will never flee. Foul mouthed princess, have mercy, I plea And I shall be ever a servant of thee

The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles The foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles!”

---

I partook in the festivities as long as I could manage; before – with a smile to my husband, and a kiss on my stepdaughter’s cheek – I retired to my chambers. It was good to see him, I thought to myself. He would be gone in the morning.

As she’d promised; Saoirsheen had had the maids prepare a bath for me. I shed myself of the monstrosity Adda called a dress, and was about to step into the tub; when I realized that they’d forgotten to leave towels for me. I didn’t want to call out for help. I hated being waited on; and only accepted Saoirsheens help; because she was more friend than servant. In combination, she and Triss made me feel like I was still in my Tooties warm embrace.

I wrapped myself in a robe; and went to the door, to make my way to the linen closet down the hall. I opened the door; and was met by Geralt. “Saoirsheen said…”, he began. “She said to bring you these”. He handed me two towels – one for my hair, another for my body. I took the towels. “Thank you”, I said, meeting his eyes.

I stepped back for him to enter. He looked around the room. “It’s very different that a tavern”, he said. “Or a wood shack”, I smiled. He grunted a smile back.

I went to lay the towels next to the tub. It was steaming. “I was about to have a bath”, I said. Geralt nodded. “Yes, of course”, he grumbled. “I’ll come back”. He went for the door. “No, please!”, I halted him. “Stay… talk. It’s been so long. The water is to hot anyway”. He smirked. “That’s never been an issue before”, he said. I chuckled. “Five years in a castle and on a throne has made me a weakling, I’m afraid”, I said. “Never”, he muttered.

I looked at him; unsure what to say. “B-but you. You’ve not changed…”, I said. “Never more than what I told you that time”. I have changed. You’ve been a part of that change. He looked at me meaningfully. I swallowed hard.

“There must have been someone else, witcher”, I said. Geralt grunted. “There was… maybe is…”. His expression became tentative. I smiled. “Our lives are different now”, I said. “I always knew… You don’t owe me anything, Geralt. You are allowed to love”. He sighed deeply. “I did love…”, he said; and met my eyes. “As did I”, I answered quietly. He frowned. “And now?”, he asked.

I took his hand, and pressed it to my lips. “You wrote your name on my life”, I said. “As I wrote mine on yours. What we were… are… no one and nothing can change that”. The witcher smiled softly. “What we’ve taken and given”. I nodded. “I can’t say that you will always have a place in my heart; because that would mean that you’d left it”. He grunted, and squeezed my hand.

I sighed. Take it. “There is another place you will always have, though. A place I know you will have to leave”, I said. “But… it will always be here for you when you come back”. He looked at me confusedly. “What do you mean?”, he said. I smiled; and slid my hands behind his neck. “For all your improved eyesight, witcher…”, I said, “… you are blind”. I pulled his face to mine, and kissed him.

It had been so long, but the warmth; the passion… it was all there. Geralts hands found my waist; pulled me to him. “Little frog…”, he breathed. “Always”, I whispered. Our kiss became heated – his warm body familiar; yet new. His tongue tasted like a million unspoken words. Words that he had saved for me; but could never utter. I pulled back.

“You can send me away”, he said. “I won’t”, I whispered.

Squeezing his hand; I stepped over to the door, and bolted it. I felt him moving up behind me; and his hands slid around my torso; as he drew in the scent of my hair. “Still…”, he said. I smiled at the sensation of his warm breath to the back of my head; and turned around to face him again.

I put my hands on his chest. “I want…”, I began. “Yes?”, he said. “I need…”. He pulled me towards him; and slid his finger from my chin; down my collarbone; and rest it by the pendant between my breasts. “Tell me, your majesty”, he smirked. My breath hitched; as the finger slid behind my robe; and found my breast – stroking softly just above my nipple. “Geralt”, I breathed. “Will you let me finish my sentence?”. He chuckled softly; and let his hand cup my breast - his thumb stroking the nub of the nipple. “If you can…”, he said. “Tell me. What is this place you have for me?”.

I took his free hand and drew it down my torso. “Here”, I whispered; and placed it between my legs; letting his fingers find my folds. He groaned as he found me already wet from want. I threw my head back and gasped; almost throbbing already, when his index finger slid between my labia; stroking the path from my nub to my entrance, and back again. “It is a good place”, he smirked. “Then explore it more”, I moaned.

He growled; and pushed me against the door; sliding two fingers into me. “I have missed this place”, he chuckled. “It is warm… slick… always wanting”. I mewled. “It’s wanted you for five years”, I said. He leaned in to me; pressing his fingers deeper inside my warmth. “Hmm”, he breathed into my ear. “That must be why it is so much tighter than I remember”. His palm began massaging my bundle of nerves; drawing swearwords from my mouth, not even I knew I had in me.

Geralt used his free hand to open my robe; and pull it off my shoulders – before dropping it on the floor. “I think the bath is cool enough. Let’s go warm it up again”. He drew his fingers from me – making me moan from the lack of contact – and put them in his mouth, tasting. The look of pleasure on his face; was enough to make me gasp and my tunnel tighten.

“I want to undress you”, I said. He smiled, and stepped back; letting my arms free for my task. I opened his jerkin, and pushed it off his shoulders; making it hit the floor with a bump. Running my hand across his chest; I walked around him. I slid my hands under the hem of his shirt; running them up his back, and lifting the fabric along the way. He helped me pull the shirt over his head.

I gently kissed the scar on his shoulder, where – so many years before – I’d treated his wound from the fight with the foglets. Cinnamon and neem. No chamomile. I felt him shiver under my touch. “Are you cold, witcher?”, I said. “Or do I scare you?”. He chuckled. “You’ve always scared me little frog”, he said. “But no more than now”. I stepped in front of him, and tilted my head. “What are you afraid of?”, I asked. He looked suddenly apprehensive. “That I’ll close my eyes; and when I open them again, you will be gone”. I smiled. “I’m here”, I said. “Now remind me that you are as well”.

Geralts eyes grew dark; and I swallowed hard, remembering what that expression on his face had led to, when we knew each other before. “Bath”, he growled. I gasped as he picked up my naked body; and carried me to the large tub. He leant down; as if to gently seat me in the warm water; but stopped a few inches above the surface – found my eyes, and grinned at me. “Geralt…!”, I managed; before he let go, dropping me into the water with a splash. I heard him laugh as I was resurfacing; and rubbing the water out of my eyes. “You’ll pay for that!”, I snarled; without being able to stifle my laughter. He quickly removed his boots and breeches. “I have the best currency right here”, he smirked; and released his hardness from his pants. My jaw dropped. I have missed you, I thought; sitting face to face with that most cherished part of his body.

Geralt stepped into the tub; making the water splash onto the floor. He sat down facing me; and realizing I was too stunned to move; he pulled me onto his lap, so I was straddling him. His fingers found my folds again. “Remember that night?”, he breathed. I moaned. “I remember many nights”, I smiled, panting. “At taverns… in haylofts… against trees… under the stars”. He chuckled. “You were so angry”. He slid his fingers into me again; his palm against my clit. “So beautiful”. I began riding his hand. “You wouldn’t let me come in the bath”, I breathed. “You made me wait”. He put his free arm around me; and pulled me close. I threw my head back and closed my eyes. “I won’t make you wait this time”, he growled into my ear; and his fingers and palm worked in perfect coordination – pushing and rubbing – until I was just about ready to come.

“Look at me”, he demanded. “I want to see your eyes”. Panting and mewling, I opened my eyes, and met his. His pupils were blown from lust; and his lips were pulled back into a snarl. “Do you want this?”, he asked; and I nodded with bated breath. “Then come for me, your majesty!”. His hand moved faster; and without breaking eye-contact; I rode him into extasy. My loins felt like they combusted; and my walls clenched around his fingers. In the end, I collapsed onto his chest.

He gently drew out his fingers, and removed the hair from my face to look at me. “This I remember”, he smiled. “What?”, I panted. “My well and fucked look?”. He growled. “I haven’t fucked you yet”. I felt his hard cock twitch against my stomach; and I smirked. “Well, as long as you’re here…”, I said. He narrowed his eyes. “Not yet”, he said. “I seem to remember as well; that you have a mouth on you”. I bit my lip. “That fucking lip”, he rumbled; pulled my face in for a kiss; sucking hard at my lower lip. “Get up”, he demanded.

I got out of the bath; my body dripping with water. Geralt got up behind me; his member rigid and wanting. “Bed”, he said; and with bated breath I walked over to the bed; seating myself on the edge of it. “No. On your knees”. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you asking the queen of Temeria to kneel for you?”, I smirked. His eyes were animal. “I’m telling you, woman; to get on your fucking knees and face the bed”. With shaking legs and a pounding heart; I did as I was told. “Good”, the witcher said; passing me to sit down in front of me on the bed. He looked at me for what seemed like forever. Then his face warmed, and he smiled. “Please”, he said. I smiled up at him.

Sliding my fingers around his shaft; I placed the head on my tongue; instantly recognizing the taste of him. I let out a moan; and slid him into my mouth. He groaned above me; sliding his fingers through my wet hair. I ran my nails down his torso; playing with the hair there; before gently cradling his testes. I bobbed my head up and down; never breaking eye-contact with the witcher. He smiled at me so gently; making me feel as if I had never looked more beautiful.

“How many nights I have thought of you like this”, he moaned. “Your hair wild, and your eyes… Shit!”. He cried out, as I took him deep into my mouth, sucking and swallowing; so he would feel the tension around his hardness. “Careful; someone will hear us!”, he breathed. I pulled him out; and pumped his length. “No one will hear us”, I said. “My rooms are empty at night, save for myself – and the occasional guest”.

Geralt looked at me wonderingly. “You said you hadn’t been with anyone since me”, he breathed, as I continued pumping him; and lapping at his tip. “I said I hadn’t been with any men”, I smirked. Geralts eyebrows raised, and he chuckled at me. “You’re always a surprise, woman”, he said. I stroked my tongue from the root to the tip of him. “I like to think of my life as a series of journeys”, I smiled. He placed both his hands on the sides of my face; drawing me to him. “Well”, he rumbled. “Let’s go on another one”.

He met my lips; and let the tip of his tongue met mine; before picking me up by the waist; and straddling me on him. I grabbed at his cock; desperately wanting him inside me; but he took a hold of my wrist; stopping me. “No”, he said. “No?”, I asked. He bared his teeth. “Hungry”, he growled. My eyes widened.

As if I weighed no more than a small animal; he flipped me around; laying me on the bed. He grabbed me behind my knees; and tugged me towards him – the sudden jolt of it making me gasp. He kneeled in front of the bed, and looked into me. “Has it changed much?”, I smiled at him. He exhaled and narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to taste it”.

I drew in a breath; and his lips closed around my folds. He stuck his tongue inside me; after which he slid it up between my labia – letting it flicker over my nub. “Still sweet”; he said softly; before diving in again – taking the same route. “But more…”. He paused. “What?”, I breathed. He sent me a wicked smile. “Royal”. I laughed; which soon turned into a mewl, when he once again dove in to me. He flattened his tongue; and stroked it up and down my slit – all along holding my hips down; so I couldn’t move. “Fingers!”, I moaned. I heard him chuckle, and he slipped his fingers into me again; pressing upwards. His lips closed around my nub; and he suckled at it. First softly, then hard – as if he was in fact trying to devour me. My legs began shaking; and I once again saw stars and contracted around his fingers.

As I was still laying – panting – Geralt moved up my body; wiping his face of my juices. “I think I’ll have you now”, he growled smilingly. My breath heaving; I nodded, and spread my legs further for him to enter me. “No”, he said. I was dumbfounded “No? Geralt!”, I panted. He smiled. “I don’t want to use you up to fast”, he said; sliding his hands around the outsides of my breasts. He sucked at my left nipple; while pulling at my right. “I don’t think I ever had you here”, he said.

My lips parted. “No, you didn’t”, I said. “May I?”, he said. I bit my lip; and he groaned; catching my mouth in a brutal kiss; before straddling my waist, and placing himself between my breasts. He pushed my warm mounds around his hardness, and began thrusting slowly. He was careful not to place his full weight on me as he went; but his eyes were wild – the amber staring all the way into my soul. I scratched my nails down his chest, and he growled.

He was pulling at my nipples as he thrusted, sending sparks from them to my core. My small mewls every time I felt one of them, made him smile. “I will have to be careful I don’t come like this”, he groaned. “You were always able to continue quite soon, after you’d finished”, I smiled. “Yes”, he said. “But I want to come inside you”. He lifted himself off me, and looked at me; eyes suddenly soft. “Can you take me?”, he asked “It’s not been long since you came last, and I don’t want to…”. “Just fuck me, Geralt”, I said, and laughed. He smiled widely.

“Do you remember that first night we laid in bed together? At the inn?”. He ran his fingers from my collarbone, between my breasts; all the way down my stomach; ending up in my curls, playing with them. I laughed and nodded. “I thought you hated me”, I said. “I’d just tried to run away; so you tied me to the bed”. He placed himself between my legs; and lifted my knees – leaving me open for him. “That whole night I was pretending to sleep. In reality I wanted nothing more than to press my body against yours, and…”, he slid his fingers between my slick folds, opening and entering me, “… slide in to you”. His breath was warm against my neck, as he began moving slowly; his thrusts soft and swaying.

“I’m not sure I would have tried to stop you”, I breathed; moving with him; his hardness and the delicious ripples of its veins sending shivers through my body.

“It would have been a bad-mannered move of me. I did have you tied up to the bedpost”, he chuckled. I returned his laugh; and gasped as he made a single deep thrust, bottoming out in me with a groan.

“Again?”, Geralt smiled. “Yes, please...”, I said. He kissed me and our tongues met; massaging eachother - as he continued thrusting softly; and then bottomed out again. The feeling made my walls clench - and I came for the third time that night; taking us both by surprise. “Fuck!”, I yelped; making the witcher chuckle at me. “It is good I can still have this effect on you”, he said, letting my walls settle around his member - still inside me. “Are you ready for more?”.

I gasped as he thrust into me again, “Slow and sweet is still not your way. Is it, master witcher?”, I moaned into his ear. “I can go as slow or fast as you want, your majesty”, he said; dark voice almost warning me. I scratched my nails down his back, and locked my legs around his waist. “What about what you want? Why don’t you show me that?”.

He lifted his head, and looked at me warily. “Are you sure? I might hurt you…”, he said. I swallowed. “I want you to do to me, what you wanted to do that night”, I breathed.

His eyes darkened, and he put his lips to my mouth, quickly pressing his tongue between my teeth, and meeting mine. I felt a sting on my thigh, where he was digging his fingers into my skin. His thrusts became harder. “Say it”, he said. “Say you’re sure”. His pupils were blown, darkness taking over in him.

“I’m sure”, I said.

He made a groan, and pulled out of me; the sudden emptiness in my core almost painful from want. He flipped me over with a single hand on my hip; making me lay on my side, and placing himself behind me. Pulling me close to him with one hand; the other one grabbed my wrist, and placed my hand on the bedpost; closing it around the wood. He wanted me to hold on to it; as I had been tied up that night. He grabbed himself, and slid back into me; bottoming out in one thrust. I cried out from the feeling of it.

“Are you alright?”, he asked, his breath catching. “Y-yes”, I stammered. “Don’t stop”.

His arm around my torso; he held me firmly to his chest – putting his hand on my shoulder, so that I was nailed onto him. “I’m going to move now”, he said. I nodded and panted in anticipation.

With a loud groan, he pulled back; and slammed back inside of me – making me feel as if he was reaching all the way into the deepest parts of my being. He made the same move again; this time making me shiver so hard from pleasure, that my hand fell from the bedpost. Geralt grabbed it, and firmly put it back around the wood; clenching it to let me know not to let go. His hand then travelled to my neck, lightly squeezing my jugular. He moved again, slamming into me with a force I didn’t know could exist in lovemaking. My walls began to clench; as Geralts thrusts became more consistent.

His chest-hair tickled my back, making me giggle. “Something funny?”, he growled into my neck. “It tickles!”, I laughed. He continued thrusting in to my core. “This”, he said, slamming into me hard, once, “tickles?”.

I gasped loudly, and followed the sound with a loud moan. He squeezed my throat a little harder. “I’ll show you tickles”, he snarled; pulling out, and flipping me onto my stomach.

He placed both my hands on the headboard; once again making it clear that I was not to remove them from there. Putting his hands on my hips; he forcefully lifted my bottom into the air; and gave it one hand spank – making me yelp in surprise.

“Too much, little frog?”, he said, sliding his hand from my bottom, up my spine to my neck; before grabbing my hair, and turning my head to the side. He leant over my body; his still throbbing member poking at my thigh as he spoke. “I can stop any time”, he smirked; and slid a finger between my labia, tracing the shape of my entrance. I shivered; shook my head and turned it forward – holding on firmly to the headboard. “Good girl”, he whispered; before smacking my cheeks one more time, grabbing my hips; once again bottoming out inside of me. He held himself there, letting me adjust to the sensation.

Not satisfied with his lack of movement; I moved myself forward, and backed up against him again; trying to coax him to thrust. In a sudden movement, he lifted my torso against his; one hand on my breast, the other holding my throat; slightly squeezing. His hold on me was strong, both arms around me like firm logs covered by soft leather; and I melted against his broad chest. His length was still inside me, like a warm rod; forcing me to stay upright. I winced from the sudden sting of his fingers tweezing my nipple; and felt my whole body shiver as his voice rumbled from his chest. “I thought I told you before”, he said. “Don’t play with fire”. “Well, you never did punish me”, I croaked.

In an instant my hands were back on the headboard, his own hand covering them; making me lean forward again. He began thrusting hard, continuously making my whole body jolt forward each time his hips met my ass. Placing his right hand on my lower back; his thumb moved between my cheeks, probing at the ring of muscle there, intensifying the sensation of his thrusts. The muscles in my thighs were seething from the strain of holding my bottom raised. Geralt continued to thrust into me; but realizing my predicament, slid his left hand under me to hold me up – taking advantage of his finger’s closeness to my nub, to tease and rub it. He was now stimulating my entire intimate area.

I could no longer moan silently; my walls once again clenching around him from the sweet sensations of his fingers along with his brutal attack on my vagina. I began mewling loudly, accompanying the sounds of his groans each time he bottomed out.

A thundering current, pulsating to the rhythm of his thrusts, began spreading from my core, throughout my limbs. It was at once a hot and cold sensation, that made my fingers shake, until I could no longer hold on to the headboard, and fell forward; with my face into the pillow.

Suddenly it felt like I shattered. A sweet mixed sensation of pain and pleasure spread into every inch of my body. My legs began to shake, my arms and shoulders jolted – and I opened my mouth; and screamed.

Geralt did not stop. Continuously moaning and grunting, he slammed, slammed and slammed into me; almost lifting me into the air with each thrust, from the sheer force of it.

I was losing control of my limbs, and the growling beast behind me was relentless in his excavation of me - while simultaniously rubbing and teasing my most sensitive spots; to force me to continue orgasming around him - giving him pleasure, and drawing mine out.

Behind me, Geralt roared; and with a final hard thrust into me, he came undone; and fell over me – our bodies still attached. Panting, Geralt lifted the hair from the back of my neck, and kissed it gently, before rolling of me, and onto his back; sliding out of me in the process. My face was still buried in the pillow.

He slid a finger down my back. “Are you alright?”, he asked; sounding worried. I turned my face to look at him; my body still convulsing in aftershocks. I tried to nod, but it disappeared in one of the jolts.

“Y/N?”, he asked, distressed. He pulled me into his arms, stroked my cheek and removed the hair from my face. His fretful eyes searched my own. “Say something!”. “I… can’t move”, I breathed. “Did I hurt you?”, he asked. “N-no”, I stammered. “I haven’t… so much… in a long time... ever...”. I couldn’t finish my sentence.

He breathed a gasp in relief, before laughing at my expression. “I told you”, he said; and pulled me to lay across his chest. “Mhmm”, I answered, my eyelids heavy. “You did. But I wanted it. It was good”. His chest rumbled from his chuckle. “Just good?”. “Hhmmm…”, I sighed, and yawned.

He put his arms around me, and ran a hand through my hair. “Sleep now, little frog. I might want you again in the morning”.

“Hhmnn frog…”, I mumbled – and drifted off.

---

He did have me again in the morning; twice. And then one more time in the afternoon, before I waved him off from my window; his note to me, still in my hand.

Until the next journey, little frog.

---

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia fic #the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher fic #jaskier #geralt of rivia smut

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gifts-of-heimdall-runes · 5 years ago

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Gods & Goddesses of The Norse Pantheon

These images and text are copied from:

http://www.wizardrealm.com/norse/gods.html

The gifs feel almost feel like old friends. They were first found while developing art for 'Gifts of Heimdall' website in 2004. The Heimdall gif in particular was developed in a number of ways to provide a decorative link between pages and I grew rather fond of the way Heimdall is depicted.

It seemed fitting the images share the spotlight on this blog and have copied the text of each image from the original website out of respect and sincere appreciation of the source material.

Odin (or, depending upon the dialect Woden or Wotan) was the Father of all the Gods and men. Odhinn is pictured either wearing a winged helm or a floppy hat, and a blue-grey cloak. He can travel to any realm within the 9 Nordic worlds. His two ravens, Huginn and Munin (Thought and Memory) fly over the world daily and return to tell him everything that has happened in Midgard. He is a God of magick, wisdom, wit, and learning. He too is a psychopomp; a chooser of those slain in battle. In later times, he was associated with war and bloodshed from the Viking perspective, although in earlier times, no such association was present. If anything, the wars fought by Odhinn exist strictly upon the Mental plane of awareness; appropriate for that of such a mentally polarized God. He is both the shaper of Wyrd and the bender of Orlog; again, a task only possible through the power of Mental thought and impress. It is he who sacrifices an eye at the well of Mimir to gain inner wisdom, and later hangs himself upon the World Tree Yggdrasil to gain the knowledge and power of the Runes. All of his actions are related to knowledge, wisdom, and the dissemination of ideas and concepts to help Mankind. Because there is duality in all logic and wisdom, he is seen as being duplicitous; this is illusory and it is through his actions that the best outcomes are conceived and derived. Just as a point of curiosity: in no other pantheon is the head Deity also the God of Thought and Logic. It's interesting to note that the Norse/Teutonic peoples also set such a great importance upon brainwork and logic. The day Wednesday (Wodensdaeg) is named for him.

Thor, or Donnar, also known as the Thunderer, was considered to be a son of Odin by some, but among many tribes Thor actually supplanted Odin as the favorite god. He is considered to be the protector of all Midgard, and he wields the mighty hammer Mjollnir. Thor is strength personified. His battle chariot is drawn by two goats, and his hammer Mjollnir causes the lightning that flashes across the sky. Of all the deities, Thor is the most "barbarian" of the lot; rugged, powerful, and lives by his own rules, although he is faithful to the rest of the Aesir. The day Thursday (Thorsdaeg) is sacred to him.

Freya is considered to be the goddess of Love and Beauty, but is also a warrior goddess and one of great wisdom and magick. She and her twin brother Freyr are of a different "race" of gods known as the Vanir. Many of the tribes venerated her higher than the Aesir, calling her "the Frowe" or "The Lady." She is known as Queen of the Valkyries, choosers of those slain in battle to bear them to Valhalla (the Norse heaven). She, therefore, is a psychopomp like Odhinn and it is said that she gets the "first pick" of the battle slain. She wears the sacred necklace Brisingamen, which she paid for by spending the night with the dwarves who wrought it from the bowels of the earth. The cat is her sacred symbol. There seems to be some confusion between herself and Fricka, Odin's wife, as they share similar functions; but Fricka seems to be strictly of the Aesir, while Freya is of the Vanic race. The day Friday (Frejyasdaeg) was named for her (some claim it was for Fricka).

Freyr (Fro Ingwe) is Freya's twin brother. He is the horned God of fertility, and has some similarities to the Celtic Cernunnos or Herne, although he is NOT the same being. He is known as King of the Alfs (elves). Both the Swedish and the English are said to be descendents of his. The Boar is his sacred symbol, which is both associated with war and with fertility. His golden boar, "Gullenbursti", is supposed to represent the daybreak. He is also considered to be the God of Success, and is wedded to Gerda, the Jotun, for whom he had to yield up his mighty sword. At Ragnarok, he is said to fight with the horn of an elk (much more suited to his nature rather than a sword.)

Tyr (or Tiw, Ziw) is the ancient god of War and the Lawgiver of the gods. He sacrifices his hand so that the evil Fenris wolf may be bound. At one time he was the leader of the Norse Pantheon, but was supplanted by Odin much later. There is nothing to indicate how this occurred; one assumes that he simply "stepped back" and let Odin assume the position of leadership. Tyr is excellent in all manners of Justice, fair play, and Right Action.

Loki, the Trickster, challenges the structure and order of the Gods, but is necessary in bringing about needed change. He is also known as the god of Fire. Neither an Aesir or a Vanir, he is of the race of Ettins (Elementals) and thus possesses some daemonic qualities. He is both a helper and a foe of the Aesir; he gets them out of predicaments, but spawns the worst monsters ever seen on the face of the Earth: the Fenris Wolf and Jormurgandr, the Midgard Wyrm. His other children include the goddess Hel (Hella, Holle), and Sleipnir, Odin's 8-legged horse; these beings are at least benign, if not somewhat terrifying to behold.

Heimdall is the handsome gold-toothed guardian of Bifrost, the rainbow bridge leading to Asgard, the home of the Gods. The rainbow bridge seems to be a common symbol in many religious traditions other than Norse Heathenism. In the Vedic tradition, it represents the Antakaranha of humanity (connection between the body and the soul). Other traditions see it as a message from the Gods, or a Bridge between the Gods and Mankind. This would tend to indicate that the Norse/Germanic people were aware of the presence of an overshadowing Soul for each individual, as well as a group or tribal intelligence. It is Heimdall who is to sound the signal horn to the Aesir that Ragnarok, the great destruction (or transformation?) is beginning.

Skadi is the Goddess of Winter and of the Hunt. She is married to Njord, the gloomy Sea God, noted for his beautiful bare feet (which is how Skadi came to choose him for her mate.) Supposedly the bare foot is an ancient Norse symbol of fertility. The marriage wasn't too happy, though, because she really wanted Baldur for her husband. She is the goddess of Justice, Vengeance, and Righteous Anger, and is the deity who delivers the sentence upon Loki to be bound underground with a serpent dripping poison upon his face in payment for his crimes. Skadi's character is represented in two of Hans Christian Anderson's tales: "The Snow Queen" and "The Ice Princess."

Frigga (Frigg, Fricka), Odin's wife, was considered to be the Mother of all; and protectoress of children. She spins the sacred Distaff of life, and is said to know the future, although she will not speak of it. Some believe that Friday was named for her instead of Freya (see above), and there is considerable confusion as to "who does what" among the two.

The Norns (Urd, Verdande, and Skuld), are the Norse equivalent of the greek Fates. It is they who determine the orlogs (destinies) of the Gods and of Man, and who maintain the World Tree, Yggdrasil.

The goddess of the dead and the afterlife was Hel (Holle, Hulda), and was portrayed by the Vikings as being half-dead, half alive herself. The Vikings viewed her with considerable trepidation. The Dutch, Gallic, and German barbarians viewed her with some beneficence, more of a gentler form of death and transformation. She is seen by them as Mother Holle; a being of pure Nature, being helpful in times of need, but vengeful upon those who cross her or transgress natural law.

Odin's son, Baldur, the god of Love and Light, is sacrificed at Midsummer by the dart of the mistletoe, and is reborn at Jul (Yule). Supposedly his return will not occur until after the onslaught of the Ragnarok, which I see as a cleansing and enlightenment more than wanton, purposeless destruction. Baldur's blind brother Hodur was his slayer, whose hand was guided by the crafty Loki. He is married to the goddess of Joy, Nanna.

Other Gods and Goddesses include Sif (Sifa), the Harvest Goddess; Forseti, the god of Law and Justice; Bragi, the bard of the Gods and muse of Poetry; Weiland (Weyland), the Smith of the Gods, Idunna, the goddess of Youth and Beauty; Vidar and Vali, the sons of Odin who will survive Ragnarok; Magni and Modi, the sons of Thor; Eostre, the goddess of Spring and of fertility, Hoenir, the messenger of the Aesir; Sunna and Mani, the Sun and Moon; Ullr, the God of the Hunt; and Nerthus, Goddess of the Sea and of Rivers.

#norse gods #norse paganism #norse mythology #norse gods gifs #gifts of heimdall runes #gifts of heimdall

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ocuk-dnd-5e-blog · 7 years ago

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Session 4 - 10/08 - Kuldjargh

Participants Dave N - DM Alex D – Fyvel – Fighter Stu – Hendel – Barbarian Dan – Darvin – Sorcerer Dave R – Galath – Ranger Andrew – Eriden – Druid John – Dwon Fai – Monk Missing Alex H – Chance – Bard Standing atop a pile of recently departed foes the group rested and picked through the treasure that was now theirs. “You know how I said I was pretty certain it was a sword?” Galath mused to the group. “I think it’s actually an axe.” “It’s an axe!” Hendel perked up at this “I’ll have it, I like axes!” (DM Note; I may have made a last minute adjustment to what the magical item was to benefit the party, alternatively they may not know the difference between a sword and an axe. I will let you make a judgment call on that) As the party were debating the differences between a sword and an axe a figure walked up the corridor, it was Dwon, looking hale and hearty. “Ah, nice to see you with your blood on the inside.” Quipped Darvin as Dwon arrived. As he settled in Chance emerged from the crevasse with the remains of the town woodcarver who “he would return to the town for a proper burial.” And with that he disappeared out of the cave. The group made a brief search of the hidden chamber which had been emptied by their recent butchery turning up a few trinkets and even more gold which they passed on to Darvin for safe keeping. Heading into the northernmost chambers Eriden came across a secret door on the right of the chamber at the same time that Hendel found one on the left and, to open it, bashed it with his axe. “Jesus Christ” someone in the party muttered to Hendel’s annoyance (DM Note; rather than debating the existence, or not, of a particular sky fairy in Faerun I was too amused by the comment to either challenge it or get a note on who said it.) “are we going down here” Eriden asked nodding his head to the door to his right but before anyone could say anything Hendel had blundered through his own door, down a flight of stairs, through a second door to be confronted by a seated figure carrying a Glass Staff (DM Note; Hendel may not be the quickest on the uptake) “Who are you he demanded” In response the figure grabbed his staff but before he could react Hendel fell into his familiar trope of trying to stab him. Landing him two solid axe blows and sending him reeling, bleeding profusely the figure muttered a few words and disappeared from before Hendel, reappearing across the room in front of a door which he fled out of screaming for help. In response three Ruffians charged in and stabbed Hendel a few times, one of the leaping acrobatically atop a table to do so, as Hendel muttered curses at them and at the world in general part of the ceiling fell in and landed on his head causing further damage on top of the sword wounds (DM Note; the fact that Hendel complained vociferously about being attacked by three previously unseen assailants may have played a factor in the rood accidently falling in just specifically on his head. Just saying.) Fyvel burst through the door in his regularly dramatic style, cloak flowing out behind him and he let forth at the Ruffian only 10 foot in front of him… and shot the ceiling (DM Note; with a double critical miss) and landed in an undignified heap at the foot of the stairs. Dwon also emerged into the room, skipping past the crumpled Fyvel and with his normal malicious glee stabbed his assailant with a spear before punching him in the knackers just to ensure he was dead. Roaring in rage the two remaining Ruffians struck back, at Hendel, leaving him barely breathing he was that cut up (DM Note; 1 hit point left) Fyvel regained his feet and finished off another Ruffian with the bolt to the side of the head as he gloated over Hendel’s bloody form, the last was taken out by Dwon with a stab to his flank. As this was going on Darvin, Eriden and Galath had, much to Hendel’s disgust, lit off in the opposite direction back down the cavern, crossing the crevasse in hopes of heading off Glasstaff as he fled the scene. Darvin caught a glimpse of him as he disappeared between two sets of doorways before Eriden headed him off at the past, sprinting along in Wolf form. Glasstaff turned to beg, instead mumbled an enchantment trying to charm (the charmless) Galath who resisted his advantages and advanced on the bleeding mage who fell to his knees begging mercy. In an unexpected turn of events Darvin and Galath bound and gagged him rather than killing him, Hendel arrived demanding they cut his head off immediately “Stay away Hendel!” Darvin yelled as they kept the blood loss addled Barbarian at bay. Darvin cast a minor illusion to make himself sound more threatening and demanded Glasstaff spill the story on what was going on. Apparently these days a man in a dress is a fearsome sight as Glasstaff did indeed spill the full story about how he had been rewarded by a magical item, gold and the lure of power to betray the Lords Alliance and set up shop in Phandalin with the aim of keeping the town cowed and unable to respond to the Black Spiders plans. Of the Black Spider himself and Cragmaw Castle he knew nothing “chop his head off!” Hendel yelled “No” Darvin said firmly and a debate ensued about what to do with him when he revealed his true identity as Iarno, apparent colleague of Sildar. Hendel, unsurprisingly, advocated cutting his head off and supplying it to Halia to claim their 100 gold reward. When it was pointed out by Fyvel that returning him whole was still proof of his defeat Hendel suggested that carrying a head was easier than a whole body. “What about the staff?” Galath suggested. “What about his head?” Hendel persevered. Eventually Darvin put his foot down “I will stay with him and watch him, we are taking him alive.” Hendel grumbled (and bled) about not killing him as the party filled up with booty from Glasstaff’s laboratory and room and Eriden, Fyvel and Dwon set off to the other secret door they had recovered. “Hendel, you are not staying here alone with him.” Darvin said firmly staying close to their captive who was staring wide eyed at the swaying, growling, bleeding dwarf. Poking their head into the secret door the three adventurers found an armory and Fyvel stocked up on some bolts before they stopped in front of another closed door. “I’m not going in first.” Fyvel said. “We all know what happens if I go in first” Dwon replied glumly. “Well I’m not going in first.” Fyvel replied resolutely backing away and with that Dwon took a deep, and resigned, breath and opened up the door and from three crypts lining the walls suddenly reared three skeletons which ran toward Dwon who rolled his eyes. “Take that Bony!” Fyvel yelled as he killed one (DM Note; in perhaps the most camp, pathetic one liner ever to be uttered by an adventurer ever) before he screamed like a girl to summon aid. Both Galath and Darvin perked up at this, Hendel was glaring at Glasstaff, and they set off at a run, or a walk dragging a captive in Darvin’s case and a sullen wander in Hendel’s, to the rest of the parties aid. Eriden tried to duck between the remaining two skeletons receiving a few gashes for his troubles but stood muttering magic phrases and suddenly the air exploded outward from him in a Thunderwave which damaged both of their assailants. Fyvel fired two more bolts finishing off the second skeleton whilst Dwon unleashed his deadly combo felling the final of their three adversaries “I’m alive” He said wonderingly. Fyvel poked among the crypts finding a valuable looking ring as Dwon listened in at one of the doors exiting the chamber, he heard what sounded like multiple voices preparing to enter the chamber and the group fell back and prepared an ambush. The door opened a group of Ruffians surged into the chamber, Dwon’s javelin went helpfully sailing over their heads into a wall and combat was joined. Fyvel quickly killed one of the Ruffians now really getting into his stride (DM Note; and without a terrible quip this time) as Eriden cast ole reliable Shillelagh and charged forward thumping one of the Ruffians in the skull sending him reeling and Galath finished him with an arrow to the throat. Feeling the odds in their favor now overwhelming Hendel charged forward landing on blow before slapping his lovely, sharp new handaxe into the floor in a resounding, and probably axe blunting blow (DM Note; with another critical miss) Dwon had his party members back and dived into combat in a whirl of ineffectual spear and fists, drawing on his Ki only to manage to miss 3 times in a single round of combat. I’ve got this covered Fyvel declared as he walked within 5 foot of his target and instead managed to break his thumb as the mechanism of his crossbow kicked back (DM Note; this time a double critical miss) a Ruffian turned round laughing and ran Fyvel through sending him sprawling to the floor in a bloody heap. (DM Note; this was perhaps the most laughably inept run of rolls I have ever seen in a single round of combat) Eriden dived forward to his fallen companions aid using his Shillelagh to wound the foe who again Galath delivered the fatal blow. Hendel was not to be out done… unfortunately by Fyvel and managed to spin himself in a harmless circle with axes flailing (DM Note; in another double critical miss) Before Eriden stepped up and caved in the last Ruffians skull with his Shillelagh. As a thank you from last time, before anyone in the party could react, Hendel stepped up and gave the prone Fyvel an extremely uncompromising, steel toe capped kick in the balls as a leveler from the last time he was on the floor bleeding. Fyvel rolled on the floor now both vomiting and bleeding as the rest of the group tried to help him, Hendel just looked smug. (DM Note; as is becoming a weekly occurrence, things now got weird) The group noticed the two women (they didn’t notice the boy) who were chained up in the cages and Darvin introduced himself eloquently. “Hello ladies, we are here to help…” “Are they vulnerable women?” Hendel asked, still bleeding “Vulnerable?” “Yes, vulnerable, what will they do if I offer to let them out?” “Hendel.” Darvin shot back, disgusted. “They are not vulnerable, they have recently lost their husband and are potentially going to be sold as slaves.” “Vulnerable slave women, whose husbands have just died?” Hendel licked his lips. Fyvel had picked the locks on the cage and was about to usher the women out as Hendel barged past into the cage with the two (now worried looking) women. “Hello ladies.” He said and the whole party as one, cringed. “Just come on out.” Fyvel gently chided the worried looking women out, then before Hendel could react slammed the cage closed leaving him trapped inside. “Oh come on, I was just about to be useful for once.” “Urgh” was the overwhelmingly disgusted response from the group. As the women told their tale to the party about the death of her husband, at which point she started crying and Hendel begged to be let out, and how they had been taken captive with others who had since been sold into slavery. She offered the party a reward of a family heirloom which had been lost in Thundertree if the group could see her and her family safely home. Throughout the Hendel was hollering and making comments so the group left the room and closed the door behind them muffling his insanity. “I apologies.” Galath offered. “we actually think he is a sexual deviant.” Which made the women look even more worried than before. As the group talked the door to the chamber they had left Hendel suddenly burst open into splinters as Hendel emerged, bleeding, weaving and muttering yet more sexual innuendos (DM Note; Hendel’s best two rolls of the night were to pick the lock on the cage then kick the door down, both over 20) “Did you miss me!?” He demanded and instead the group tried ignoring him as you would a naughty puppy and he once again subsided into sullen muttering about blood loss. The group agreed to escort the woman, and their prisoner who was still under close watch of Darvin, home. Darvin stayed with their charges, Hendel loitered, as Eriden, Galath and Fyvel burst into the last chamber they had not checked to be confronted by a Goblin who was lying whining on the floor. Eventually introducing himself as Droop “a problem Hendel regularly suffers from.” Someone sniggered, he was eager to please offer the group gold, and all the information he had if only they didn’t kill him. Finding out he was scared of spiders Eriden transformed into a giant spider sending him screaming under the bed from which he begged for his life. Eventually seeing no use in him in a strange display of mercy the group left him alive and headed off back to town with their entourage. “You can have the cave.” Eriden commented. “I’ll be the richest goblin alive!” Exulted Droop. The group headed back to town and handed over Iarno to Sildar who looked furious at his betrayal, beating the man as he led him off to the jails the party were rewarded by a now happy looking Mayor with 85 gold for their services and also rescuing the missing family. Reporting their success to Halia she only offered them 50g for not returning with Iarno’s head “I told you we should have cut off his head!” Shouted Hendel sounding exasperated “We missed out on 15g. We could still go get his head.” “I don’t think Sildar would like that.” Responded Dwon dryly. As Halia had been talking Fyvel had been watching her intently and on leaving the shop he pulled up the group “She is up to something, I’m certain.” (DM Note; and with a natural 20 insight he would be right) Hendel, however, was still talking about head chopping and vulnerable women and still bleeding as no one had bothered to heal him. “Hendel.” Dwon said “Go get some tartan paint.” (DM Note; with another natural 20 roll!) “it is critical that we can discover what is going on but we need tartan paint.” “Ok.” Hendel replied, utterly convinced and trundled off. Speaking to Sildar the group discovered that Halia was in fact a representative of the Zhentarim and whilst she hadn’t done anything wrong Sildar would be keeping a closer eye on her especially in the vacuum created by the destruction of the Redbrands. Satisfied with their work the group set off back to the Stonehill Inn to rest, on reaching their beds they found a smiling Hendel. “I couldn’t find any tartan paint, but I found three dead rats and I have put them in your bed to keep them safe.” The group looked at one another as Hendel smirked. “You know, this guy really is an idiot.” Fyvel said. “Have you ever heard of the term Kuldjargh.” Eriden asked. “No” “It means axe idiot.” “Perfect.” (DM Note; The title Kuldjargh was one found by Hendel himself. On reaching level 3 at the end of the session and going for the Battlerager option he found the term which translates to “axe idiot” which with his sexual deviancy, bad attacks and general insanity fits rather well!)

#dnd 5e #d&d 5e

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alligaytorswamp · 3 months ago

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commission for @pixxiepink 🦌 the character is from her novel Hel Bound Bard

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#my art #full art #commission #hel bound bard

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alligaytorswamp · 4 months ago

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commission for @pixxiepink 🍀 the characters are from her novel Hel Bound Bard

commission info

#my art #full art #commission

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noladyme · 4 years ago

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The Frog Princess. Chapter 6

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

The rooster that woke me up, was a real one. Sunlight was slipping in through the shutters; and lighting up the face of the man lying naked next to me – his arm draped over my chest.

We looked at each other for a long time without a word. I knew the situation should be awkward – our circumstance being as it was – but in that moment, it wasn’t.

His amber eyes were warm; nothing like the cold, heartless eyes I’d seen earlier. I lost myself in his gaze; and smiled. I ran a finger down the side of his face; from the soft skin on his temple, over the stubble on his cheek, and he closed his eyes in pleasure. He pulled me towards him gingerly, so that we were laid facing each other; and put his forehead to mine, exhaling with a satisfied expression. His arm was around me, and his fingers played with the hair at the back of my neck.

The fire having gone out; the room was cold; and Geralt pulled the covers over me, to shield me from it. I sighed contentedly, and he smiled at me; pulling me in for a soft kiss. I let my fingers slide over his chest, running them through the hair there; before slipping my arm around his warm body. Taking a hold of my thigh; he slowly slid my leg around his hip – still softly kissing my lips; occasionally letting the tip of his tongue met mine.

Our eyes met in mutual consent; and he gingerly slid inside me again – taking care not to hurt me; as I was still sore from our lovemaking the night before – we hadn’t stopped at one time, and I could see a few bruises on my arms from where he had held me pinned down on the mattress. I gasped as he began to move. “Do you want me to stop?”, he whispered. I shook my head. “Never”. He smiled softly.

His movements weren’t so much thrusts, as slow sways of his hips; as he held me against him. His member felt velvety as he moved in and out of me; and I stroked his back lazily – closing my eyes in relaxed pleasure.

We were in a state of pure bliss in that moment. Nothing could touch us inside this little bubble we had created.

He continued to move; pulling himself on top of me – taking care not to put his full weight on me. His hands slid over my breasts; fingers tracing a purplish bruise his mouth had left there. “I didn’t mean to hurt you”, he said; and kissed the mark. “You didn’t”, I breathed, and stroked his cheek. “I’m all right”.

Our lips met again; brushing against each other. He ran his hand down my side; lifting my leg to lay it around his torso. I moaned from the angle he was getting; only having made such a slight change to our position. He kept kissing me and gently excavating my core. His pubic bone was softly pushing against my bundle of nerves as he moved; and I felt my insides beginning to clench around him.

“Geralt…”, I breathed. “I can… only once…”. “Yes”, he whispered into my ear. “Together”. Moving a little faster; we chased our highs together – moaning in unison.

It wasn’t the same explosion as the ones that I had felt the night before – but no less pleasurable. It was a poof; and then a soft wave of tingling warmth spreading throughout my body. Geralt came along with me; a quiet groan as he pushed into me one final time – his cock twitching along with his body’s jolt.

Sliding out of me; he laid back on the mattress. His hair was tussled, and I grinned at him. “What?”, he asked. “Now you look well and fucked”, I giggled. He raised his eyebrows and smiled back at me. “I am”.

There was a gentle knock on the door. “Geralt?”, Jaskier called softly. “Are you awake?”

“Fuck”, Geralt grumbled.

I released myself from his grasp – squeezing his hand in the process – and went to get the robe I had left by the tub. The water was cold; but I used it to quickly rinse myself off from Geralts and my own juices; smiling at the memory of the moments we’d spent in it the night before.

Having put on his pants and breeches, and checked to see that I was decent – pouting playfully at the lack of skin he could see on me – Geralt unbolted and opened the door. Jaskier stepped in, carrying a tray of assorted fruits. “Good morning”, he chirped sweetly, like a mother to a child. He set down the tray, and sat himself on a chair by the table. Geralt went to build a fire.

“Well, that was a party!”, Jaskier smiled. “I didn’t see much of you. Where did you go?”. He looked from Geralt to me; to the untouched bedding on the cot by the door. Seeing my flushed cheeks; his mouth went agape. “Oh”. He said. “Oh! Oh, wow!”, he smiled brightly. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t see that coming”. Popping a grape into his mouth, he smirked and wiggled his brows. I ran a hand through my hair, and looked away.

“What do you want, Jaskier?”, Geralt asked. “I wanted to make sure to see you off”, the bard answered. I sat down across the table from him; wincing slightly from the pain in my nether regions. Jaskier drew in a long breath through his teeth. “Do you need some ice, my lady?”. I threw a plum at him. He laughed in response.

“Are you not continuing on with us?”, I asked, trying to change the subject. “Alas, I cannot”, he answered, stuffing his mouth with another three grapes. “The Baron has asked me to stay the week, and perform at the evening festivities each night. I’m charging him a good amount of coin for it”, he said proudly. “Good for you”, Geralt said disinterestedly. “Yes, well; I’m sure you’ll miss me very much”, Jaskier smirked at him.

He stood up and took my hand; kissing it chivalrously. “My lady. It has been an honor”, he said. “I shall write you another ode; and if we’re lucky, I’ll be able to sing it at your wedding”.

Geralt looked as if he was ready to smash the bards face into the wall.

Another knock on the door. “Jasky?”, a light voice tweeted. “Coming, Cri… Clo… Cuddle cake”, Jaskier called. “I can’t remember her name”, he whispered with a shrug.

He walked up to the witcher, and patted his shoulder. “Take care, old friend”, he said. “Goodbye, Jaskier”, Geralt answered. “Don’t die before we meet again”. Jaskier smiled brightly, and went out the door to join his newest conquest.

“I give it three days”, I smirked, making Geralt chuckle. He grabbed an apple from the tray, and took a large bite of it. “Get dressed”, he said, mouth full. I looked him with a raised eyebrow. He swallowed the bite. “Please?...”.

---

We set off from Tigg within an hour. Geralt had offered me to sit on Roach, but I’d declined. “It’s probably going to be a few hours before I can straddle anything again”, I’d smirked at him; getting a grunting chuckle in response.

It was strange leaving behind the place we’d spent the night making love; and moving towards the place he was to hand me over to another man. I think we both felt the awkwardness of the situation build; but once we’d left the village behind us, and were out of the sight of others, Geralt took my hand; clearly trying to clear the air, somehow.

“Are we going to… do that… again?”, I asked. Suddenly I felt strangely shy. “What do you mean?”, he smirked; looking out the corner of his eye at me. “Fuck you, Geralt”, I sneered. “Oh, that! Yeah, I wouldn’t mind”, he chuckled. My face reddened. “Hels ass. I feel like a… bloody juvenile”, I snorted.

He stopped, and pulled me in to his arms. “I don’t know what this is; but whatever it is, it feels good”. I looked up at him. “I want you to be happy; safe and content. And if it wasn’t for your soreness; I’d want to throw you against that tree over there, and screw your brains out, until you screamed in pleasure. Trust me when I say; I haven’t felt that way about someone in quite a while”. I laughed, and bit my lip. “That fucking lip”, he growled. I raised a brow at him, and smirked. “Don’t play with fire, little frog”, he said warningly.

I got on my toes, and kissed him softly. He groaned in response. “What did I just say?”, he said, and looked at me with mock threat in his eyes. “Fine”, I said, and we kept moving.

We walked throughout the day, stopping once for a bite of bread; and a tender kiss. The landscape changed again; as we moved towards the edge of forestland. The air had a brisk chill to it; biting at my nose and cheeks. My knee was no longer in any real pain; so, I tried to keep a brisk pace, to keep myself warm.

“Eager to get to our destination?”, Geralt asked curtly. “I’m cold”, I bit back. “Sorry”, he said, voice softer.

I saw a patch of white flowers at the side of the road; and let go of Geralts hand to examine them. Chamomile!, I realized, and began gently cutting their stems with my knife, to save them for future use. I saw more plants further in to the trees, that I wanted to have a look at. “Y/N”, Geralt called after me. “I’m just going to look at these flowers”, I called back. “Keep your bloody breeches on… If you insist…”, I mumbled.

I found another patch of flowers – pretty pink ones – which I recognized to be oleander. I wasn’t in the habit of dabbling in poison; but if the last week had taught me anything, it was to always be prepared. I moved on; finding both honeysuckle and mandrake. Looking back over my shoulder, I could no longer see the road; or Geralt. I realized I was lost.

I tried to find my own tracks, thinking that I could follow them back. I didn’t want to call out for the witcher, admittedly a little ashamed about my predicament. It was swiftly becoming darker around me – the sun beginning to set. Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm. Geralt looked at me with angry eyes.

“You’ve been gone over half an hour. I thought you were trying to run again!”, he snarled. His words made me turn from embarrassed to enraged. “Who says I wasn’t?”, I said. “The honeysuckle in your satchel”, he answered. “How did you?...”, I began; remembering his perfect sense of smell. “Of course”, I scoffed.

He dragged me back to the road; which to my embarrassment was only about 50 yards away.

“You need to stay near me”, he growled, not letting go of my arm, and snatching my satchel from me. “I can’t spend every minute of the day having to worry that you’ll suddenly wander off and get yourself in trouble!”.

“I wish you’d just ignore your duty for once, and take me somewhere else!”, I said. “Y/N…”, Geralt said, having let go of me. “I can’t… Even if I did, I couldn’t give you what you want”. I looked at him confused, but he seemed to take that as sadness. “I’m sorry, little frog”, he said. “I was made for one thing. To kill. I’m not going to be able to settle down in a cabin near Kaer Trolde; shearing sheep and tending to crops”.

I stopped in my tracks – rage seeping out of every pore of my being. “Did you completely miss the point of what I told you that night?”, I snarled. “I don’t want you to change for me. I just don’t want to…”.

“Shut up”, he said. I slapped him hard across the face. He looked at me with a sudden indignance; which made me lift my arm, to strike him again. He caught my wrist in the air. “Shut up, and get out of sight!”. He shoved me towards the side of the road; gesturing for me to get behind the trees that made out the edge of the forest. I instantly obeyed; recognizing the expression on his face.

Crouching behind a tree, I looked down the road from where we had been coming. A group of men on black horses were approaching.

“Halt!”, the rider at the front called out. “You! Where is the girl?”, he demanded, looking at Geralt. “What girl?”, the witcher answered. “Don’t play dumb. The girl you’re transporting!”.

I recognized the men as the ones who had been at Coodcoodlaks feast. “She’s gone”, Geralt answered calmly. “She ran off. I’m searching for her myself”. The man laughed gruffly. “You lost the future queen of Temeria? Even a witcher can’t be that stupid”, he sneered. “Or is it that you take me for a fool?”, he added. Geralt smirked. “You brought only 4 men for a fight with a witcher. That seems foolish”.

The man got off his horse; his men following his lead. They all drew their swords. “Don’t tempt me, mutant”. I saw Geralts face contract into anger, and held my breath. “You should have just told me, if you wanted to dance”, he said.

The man put his blade to Geralts throat; making the witcher lean back slightly. “Where. Is. She?”, the man said asked again. Geralt bared his teeth in a sneer – his expression terrifying. “She ran away”, he repeated. “Which is something you should do as well”.

The man let out an angry grunt, pulled back his sword; and went to join his men at the horses.

“Don’t walk away angry; just walk away”, Geralt called after him.

Suddenly I felt something cold and sharp against my neck. Someone put their arm around my waist; pulling me against them. “Hello there”, someone whispered in my ear. I could feel his hot breath and spittle against my neck. It smelled rancid.

He dragged me from my hiding place; his blade making it clear that I shouldn’t struggle. I couldn’t help myself though; and tried to jostle myself out of his grasp. His knife nicked at the skin on my neck; and I felt a tiny trickle of blood from the wound, running down my collarbone.

My captor dragged me onto the road; and shoved me towards the man who had been threatening Geralt. He grabbed a hold of me with a laugh; holding me close to his chest.

“There she is, the whore”, the man sneered. “Don’t worry, witcher. We’ll bring her to our master. I’m sure he’ll bring her to good use”.

“I’m…”, I tried, “…my name is… Zaba. I’m an herbalist. I don’t know who this man is”. “Sure you are, my lady”, the man growled into my ear. “What’s in the satchel? The crown jewels?”.

Geralt drew his sword. “Let her go”, he snarled; his eyes almost black – not from any draughts, but from pure rage. The men around us drew their own weapons; and their leader kept me held against him; turning me, so my back was to his chest. “No. No, I don’t think so”, he chuckled; and let his hand travel to my breast, taking a hold of it – testing its firmness. “Come to think of it, maybe I’ll have a go at her myself”.

Geralt took a fighting stance, and then jumped forward with a brutal slash, hitting one of the men across the torso. He fell to the ground with a scream; and I could see his guts spilling from his stomach. One of his companions instantly vomited at the sight.

The men sprang at the witcher; but had not counted for his speed. Even the man holding me seemed surprised; which gave me the chance I needed. I threw my head back – hitting his nose – and then slipped the sgian-dubh out of my boot, and spun around; stabbing him in the side. The man squealed like a stung pig; and stumbled backwards. I drew my knife back; and turned towards the fighting behind me.

Geralt was effortlessly avoiding the slashes of his opponents swords; slashing at one mans shoulder, and hitting another on the back of his knee, making him unable to stand. At this point, three men were dead or dying; and Geralt grabbed the throat of a fourth one; lifting him into the air, and lowering him onto his sword – killing him instantly in the process.

The witcher ran towards me and the leader laying on the ground. The man was bleeding out, color gone from his face. My first captor sprang onto his horse, and made to ride off. “Tell O’Dimm the witcher has her!...”, the man on the ground cried out; before Geralts sword pushed through his neck; making any other words disappear into a rattle. The rider kicked at his horse, and quickly disappeared into the forest.

I looked down at the dead man at my feet. “I killed him…”, I said below my breath. “No. I killed him”, Geralt said gruffly, and pulled back his sword. “We have to get out of here”. He examined the horses the dead men had arrived on; and apparently being satisfied with the build of one of them, he took my satchel, and fastened it to the black stallion. “Come on”, he said. I was frozen in place; looking at my bloody hands; breathing superficially.

Geralt put his hands on either side of my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Y/N, these weren’t soldiers, but they were Nilfgaardian. They came here to take you to their master – Gaunter O’Dimm, I suspect. Whatever he has planned for you is not good”. He raised his eyebrows, boring into my eyes. “I killed them. They’re dead. It was bloody; you saw it happen, and you took part in the fighting yourself. This is real. And I need you to move past that; get on that horse, and follow me out of here”.

I shook myself. “Yes”, I said. Geralt nodded, and led me to the horse; quickly depositing me on its back. Kicking at the corpse of the man that had held me, he then took the mans sword, and fastened it to my saddle.

We rode through the night, putting as many miles between us and the battleground as possible.

---

As the sun began to rise, we arrived at a lake. Geralt helped me off my horse. He gently slid his thumb over the cut on my neck, and grunted. “You can wash up. I’ll find us something to eat”. He went to get his things; but I grabbed his hand, stopping him. He put his hand on my cheek. “I’ll be close”, he smiled reassuringly.

I walked down to the edge of the water. Meeting my own eyes in the reflection, I didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me. Geralt dealt the finishing blow… but I killed him, I thought. I killed a man… a man that was going to do very bad things to me if I didn’t… and he’s dead now. Because of me. The thought didn’t make me as distraught as I thought it would. I should be screaming and feeling like a murderer – but in reality; I felt nothing but indifference. I’d done what I had to, to survive. I felt strangely… satisfied.

I quickly washed my face, arms and hands; and walked back to the horses. The black stallion standing next to Roach was beautiful and strong. I blew at his muzzle, as I had with Roach’s when I’d first met her – and he responded in kind. “You need a name, boy”, I whispered.

“Are you talking to your horse?”, Geralts gruff voice came from behind me. I turned to face him. “Training for conversations with you, I suppose”. He grunted with a smile.

He was carrying a dead hare by its ears, and slit his knife down its front, beginning to skin it. I winced at the sight. “You just saw 5 men killed brutally; but can’t stomach a hare being prepared for a meal?”, he chuckled. “I’ve just seen enough blood for a while”, I answered.

I went to build a fire, as Geralt continued his butchery of the hare. The flames were a welcome sight, after having ridden through the cold night. Putting the meat on a stick over the fire; Geralt looked at me with enquiring eyes. “You like animals?”, he asked. “No more than anyone else, I guess”, I answered. “But you know how to speak to them”, he said. I sighed, and considered his words. “I eat their meat; wear their skins; and ride their backs. It’s only fair to treat them with respect; if I expect for them to serve me like that”. He chuckled at my response, and handed me a piece of the meat to eat. It was sweet and gamey.

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”, he said, between bites. “What do you mean?”. “The cat. How you talk to the horses. I’ve never seen anyone interact that way with animals”. I looked at him challengingly. “Ask”, I said, as he had to me those nights before. “You want to”. He laughed, and narrowed his eyes. “You’re playing with things you shouldn’t, little frog”, he said. “Magic isn’t for humans”.

I laughed at him. “Not everything is magic, witcher”, I said. “Sometimes it’s just two creatures meeting, and reacting”. He exhaled with a grunt. “Are you unhappy with my answer?”, I asked teasingly. He looked into the fire. “I think there is more to you than you're telling me”, he grumbled. “Maybe”, I said. “But if there is, I don’t know”. He nodded.

We went to wash our bowls in the lake. The morning sun was shining orange across the sky. “Do you usually hit your lovers?”, the witcher asked out of nowhere. I looked at him questioningly. He gestured at a scratch on his cheek, that I’d apparently left there when I slapped him. I smirked. “Only the ones who ask for it”. He made a scoffing laugh.

“You missed a spot”, I smiled. “Where?”, he said, looking down at his bowl. “There”, I said; took a handful of water, and threw it at his face. I laughed heartily – until I saw his expression. It wasn’t angry, but it was menacing. He wiped his face, and snarled. I threw my bowl on the ground, and ran. “Hurry, little frog!”, he growled after me.

Laughing, I sped towards the trees; him fast at my heels. “Does water make witchers melt, like it does witches?”, I giggled, and looked back towards him. He was gone. My heart was in my throat, and a tingle spread through my body in anticipation. I couldn’t see him anywhere. I spun around, and he appeared in front of me; grabbing me around my waist with one arm. “I don’t know; do witches melt?”, he said, and emptied his bowl – filled with water – over my head. I yelped, and struggled to get away from him. I could feel his hardness against my stomach, and my breath hitched. Biting my lip; I smirked at him. “Fire…”, he growled; and grabbed my mouth in a violent kiss, leaving me breathless and panting. “There are plenty of trees around”, I moaned against him; and he picked me up – pushing me against an old oak.

Everything happened fast after that. Frantically kissing and panting; he pulled up my skirts; and put his large hand between my legs – earning a desperate mewl from me. “Mmhmm…”, he groaned; excavating my folds, and sliding two fingers into me. “No bath to confuse your wetness this time”, he growled into my mouth, as he kept kissing me. His fingers hooked, and his palm rubbed against my nub; quickly drawing me closer to my undoing. I was desperately trying to keep my composure; but quickly had to accept the fact that I was coming violently on his hand. He chuckled menacingly at me. “Only once isn’t going to be enough this time”, he said; pulling out his fingers, and tasting my juices on them. “Mmmhmm…”, he smirked.

I was still seeing starts as he was beginning to undo the buttons on his breeches; one knee between my knees to keep me from moving. I managed to push him away; meeting his confused eyes with a teasing smile. I turned him around; and pushed him against the tree; kneeling down in front of him. Looking up at him, his expression had turned primal; the pupil in his amber eyes blown.

I finished the task he had started on his breeches; and reached down into his pants, taking a hold of his hardness – relishing in the soft skin covering the rod-like firmness underneath it. I tasted the salty precum with the tip of my tongue; and closed my eyes, smiling. I gently cupped his testicles; and folded his penis against his stomach; tracing my tongue from the base to the head of it.

Geralt gasped, and put his hand on my head; sliding his fingers into my hair. “Y/N”, he sighed. Giving his balls a soft squeeze; I slid my lips around the head and sucked at it, before moving my head towards the base; massaging it with my tongue all the way.

Geralt let out another gasp; and I released him from my mouth, smiling up at him. “I think I found your weakness, witcher”, I whispered; letting my index finger find the soft skin just behind his testes, stroking it. I pumped his cock, and licked the tip again. “Princess…”, he moaned. I gave his member a firm squeeze, and frowned up at him; removing my tongue from where it had been. Chiding him with my eyes, he smiled apologetically. “Sorry”, he breathed. “Better”, I smiled; and slid him into my mouth again; going as deep as I could without choking.

I kept massaging his balls, and hummed softly as I bobbed my head back and forth. He tasted better than any treat I’d had before. Before long I felt the precious jewels in my hand tighten; and Geralts voice became strained in his moaning. He grabbed tightly at my hair, and cried out – before coming in my mouth. Pulling him out, I looked him in the eyes; swallowed; and smiled.

He stroked my cheek, and looked at me in wonder. In front of my face, his still hard member was twitching; and I gave it a final lick at its head – like it was a delicious sweetie on a stick. “Fuck”, he groaned at me, looking on in amazement. I stood up; straightened my skirts and smiled again. “That was lovely”, I said sweetly, and went to walk back to the horses.

“Not finished!”, he snarled; picked me up; and slammed me against the tree-trunk again. I gasped in shock. “Again?”, I squeaked. “Again”, he growled; hitched my skirts back up, and sank into me with his still rock hard cock.

“Remember what I said?”, he breathed into my ear. I nodded; digging my fingers into his jerkin, holding on to him as he thrusted. “Screaming in pleasure, little frog”. “Do your best, wolf!”, I panted.

Having held on to only one of my legs; he now lifted the other one from the ground; and was now carrying my weight, as he continuously hammered into my core. The familiar tingling returned; turning in to a pulsating warmth; before finally exploding – as I began throbbing around his length.

And then I did as he’d said. I screamed in pleasure.

---

Thanks for reading.

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- no lady

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noladyme · 4 years ago

Text

The Frog Princess. Chapter 3

She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria. In stead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All soundtracked by an endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

I woke to the smell of something sweet and tangy. My whole body was aching from having lain in such an uncomfortable position on the cold ground. I pulled myself up to sit, turning towards the embers of the fire. The witcher sat by it, stirring a small pot.

“Another one of your concoctions?”, I asked.

He looked up at me – his face once again a healthier shade; and his eyes amber. “Actually, it’s breakfast”, he answered, and handed me a small wooden bowl, filled with a bluish gruel. “Berry porridge”, he said. “It’s not the kind of cooking you’re used to; but it’s what we have”.

I tasted it tentatively. It was delicious. I ate my fill, and accepted seconds when the witcher offered it.

“Did she come from the grave back there?”, I asked, putting down the bowl finally. “Yes”, he answered shortly. “The grave was fresh, and the ground unconsecrated. She was killed in disgrace; probably by a lover”. “Poor girl”, I mumbled, and instantly felt ashamed of how I’d joked about him taking her head.

He stood up, and began kicking dirt into the embers. “She’s gone now”. “At peace?”, I asked. “I don’t know”, he admitted.

Jaskier came into the clearing then, buttoning his shirt. “There’s a lovely little stream down there. You should go and enjoy the water; take a bath, maybe”, he smiled at me. “She did last night”, the witcher smirked. I turned away – cheeks flush from a mix of rage and embarrassment.

---

We continued east through the forest. My knee was aching, but there wasn’t a chance in Hel he’d get me to complain.

Dragging his horse, we walked in silence; the witchers eyes tracing my face, before falling to the ground. “What?”, I asked. “Nothing”, he answered. “You’re staring at me”, I said.

He smiled. “I was just wondering”, he said. “Back at the feast; your cousin told you I was a witcher. Did you not know what that is?”. I chuckled. “I knew. I know”. “Hmm”, he grunted. “You did not react as I would have expected. Most people – most women – either draw back in revulsion or spread their legs in in lust”. I frowned at him. He chuckled gruffly. “So you are repulsed by me”, he said.

“It’s not the mutant part that I’m repulsed by”, I said. “It’s the shitty personality that goes with it”.

He grunted again. “Well I’ve lived many years. The world has changed, but my personality never did. So, you best get used to it”. I smirked. “I’ll do my best. But I’m not spreading my legs”, I said, trying for haughty; but I didn’t dare look at his reaction. “You’ll do your best, until the next time you try to run away”, he snorted.

I laughed out loud, and kicked a stone into the brushes. “So, did Eist send you with me to protect me, or to make sure I don’t escape?”. This time I did look at him. He smiled. “Well, I am a very good tracker”. “I could slit your throat while you sleep, and then run”, I said. “I don’t sleep much”, he answered. “I noticed”, I mumbled.

The trees became further apart, leading us towards fields of grain. The smell of fresh baked bread filled the air.

“So, you know about witchers, my lady?”, Jaskier called out from behind us. “Yes”, I replied. “My nan… Thrude told me about many strange things”.

A carriage passed us from behind; and I jumped to the side, almost stumbling into the ditch. The witcher grabbed my waist, not letting me fall. His hands were gentle. “How is your knee?”, he asked. “Pained”, I finally admitted.

He effortlessly lifted me into the air, setting me down on Roach’s back. Jaskier mumbled something disgruntledly. The witchers hands lingered around my waist for a second, making sure I wouldn’t fall of. “Thanks”, I said quietly. He grunted in response.

“Thrude”, Jaskier continued. “She’s your hand matron”. “Not anymore, I suppose”, I said sadly. “But she knows things. Things that she’s shared with you?”. “Are you writing another song, bard?”, I laughed. “Always!”, he said, winking at me.

I held on to the mare’s mane, getting comfortable in the saddle. “Thrude trained as a vöelve”. “A witch”, the witcher said. “No”, I challenged. “A vöelve is not a witch. She is a seeress, a wise woman; with knowledge of plants and healing”. “And killing”, the witcher once again interrupted.

I chuckled at him. “Do you oppose to Skellige’s traditions?”, I said. “No”, he answered. “I oppose to letting humans dabble in things they should not stick their noses into. Magic isn’t for them”.

We were quiet again.

---

In the afternoon we reached a small village, that seemed to have grown out of the fields. There was a blacksmith working at his anvil; and the witcher led us up to his small shop table. He lifted me of Roach, taking care to set me down gently. Our bodies were close enough for me to feel his chest against mine; and my breath hitched slightly. He stepped away quickly, as if burnt by a flame. His anger was dormant, but still there, it seemed. I sighed, and accepted Jaskiers hand to go sit on a bench by the blacksmiths small house.

“He’ll be over it soon”, the bard said, smiling at me. “I don’t care”, I answered. Jaskier looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “I can tell”.

The witcher went up to the blacksmith, a knife in his hands. It took me a second to recognize it as my own sgian-dubh. He must have taken it from my boot while fixing my wound. “Blacksmith, what can you do with this?”, the witcher asked the man; and handed him my knife. He turned it around in his hands. “Well, this is a rare one. Must have paid a pretty coin for it, master”, the man said, holding it into the air to let the sun fall on the engravings. “Some nice woodwork in the handle; and these patterns on the blade… Skellige?”. The Witcher grunted in response. “It’s not very useful now; blunt as it is”, the man continued. “I dare not heat it up; it might ruin the markings. But I can sharpen it for you; maybe oil the wood?”.

The witcher nodded. “My friends sister needs needle and a thread, for her torn dress; and a fresh bandage. We had a run in with a pack of wolves”. The blacksmith nodded with a friendly smile. “My wife will have both bandages and sewing gear. She’s in the house. I’ll work on your knife while you speak with her”.

The witcher came to stand by us; and Jaskier looked at him with beaming eyes. “You called me your friend”, he said. Another grunt. “Yes, and I also called her your sister”, he said and nodded at me; before knocking on the door of the house.

“Well; I take what I can get”, Jaskier smiled.

Having let the kind wife of the blacksmith sew a patch on my dress, and re-bandage my leg – she had resolutely refused to let me do it myself – we returned to her husband for my knife. The witcher paid the man; and we went to continue on our journey.

“Master witcher”, the blacksmith halted us. “The day is beginning to wane, and I’d hate to see you caught up by another pack of wolves. Rest here tonight. We haven’t much to offer in beds; but there’s a small barn out back; with clean straw to lay on”.

The witcher shook his head. “We wouldn’t want to impose on your hospitality. Just point us in the direction of an inn”. The man smiled – along with Jaskier. “Of course, sir. There will be one further in town. But do let us know if there is anything else, we can do for you”. The witcher answered with a smile himself; and led us on into town.

---

The inn was crowded; but we’d managed to find a table to sit by. Jaskier was sending eyes at one of the barmaids; soon leaving us for her company. We sat in silence for a long time, eating the serving of mutton in front of us. I picked at the meat on my plate.

“Dinner not suiting the lady?”, the witcher smirked at me. “I am sorry this establishment doesn’t live up to your high standards”.

I sighed, and looked at him pointedly. “I saw a wyvern rip a lambs head clean off once. I’ve never been able to stomach eating sheep since”. His eyes fled mine. “I see”, he said. “Did it set fire to the corpse afterwards?”. “Wyverns don’t breathe fire”, I answered venomously. “Anything else you want to test me on?”. He grunted.

“… For 'tis naught, but bad luck To fuck with a puck Lest your grandkid be born A hairy young faun Bleating and braying all day, hey ho..”

Jaskiers voice and lute led the patrons into a jaunty tune; goading them all to sing along. The young barmaid was hanging on to his every word – making it very clear to the whole room that his breeches would be lying on the floor next to her bed that night.

“The fishmonger's daughter, ba ba The fishmonger's daughter, ba ba…”.

I drained my mug of beer, and sighed. “Where is my room?”, I asked. “I suppose you’ll be watching the door all night; keeping me safe?”. “No”, the whitehaired man answered simply. I silently cheered at the prospect of having some privacy for the first time in a few days.

He took my arm, leading me through the crowd of patrons surrounding Jaskier. “I expect you’ll be making your own sleeping arrangements”, he said to the bard in a break between songs. The barmaid sat herself down on Jaskiers lap, and began whispering into his ear, making his face blush. “Well, I…”, he said; smiled, and shrugged at us. “Right”, the witcher said, and dragged me along towards the stairs to the second floor.

Once outside a crooked door, he opened it, and pushed me inside, following at my heels. I looked at him confused. “What are you…”, I managed, before he grabbed my arm again, forcing me to sit down on the bed.

“Dress on or off?”, he said, voice tired. He began to take of his boots, and set his things down; his sword leaning against the chair by the bed.

My breath hitched. Taking of his jerkin; his black shirt rode up, to reveal his toned physique. I caught a glimpse of the dark hair splayed his chest, before the hem fell back down, covering his torso again.

I jolted myself – forcing myself to focus. “Are you mad?”, I asked and stood up. He looked at me bored. “On? Or off?”. “I told you…”, I said. “Don’t flatter yourself, little frog”, he said. “I’m too tired for any more discussions; now make up your mind, and get under the sheets”.

My cheeks reddened. “On… I mean off”, I said, meeting his indifferent eyes.

I began to untie the laces of my dress, but stopped once I realized his gaze wasn’t diverting. I frowned at him, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine”, he said, and turned around for me to undress.

Once I had shed my clothes, leaving me in just my chemise; I quickly crawled under the sheets, covering myself. He sat down on the bed, next to me. “Hand”, he said. I furrowed my brow, and reached out my hand to him. Grabbing it, he pulled a thin rope from his pocket, tying it around my wrist; and fastening it to the bedpost beside me.

“What in Hel, do you think you’re doing?”, I growled at him. He pulled the knot one last time, checking to see that I wouldn’t be able to get free; but also, that I wouldn’t be in pain. “I intend to have a full night’s rest; without having to worry that you’ll try to run again”.

“You absolute bastard!”, I sneered. “Yes”, he answered, and laid down next to me on the bed; making the old mattress dip, and my body slide towards his. I clung to the side of the bed with my free hand, trying to avoid touching him in any way. He jostled a pillow to lie between us. “Now sleep”.

I kept moving, trying to get comfortable with my hand tied up above my head.

“Why didn’t you accept the blacksmiths offer?”, I asked. He sighed. “They had nothing to share with us”, he said; his eyes closed, and his arms crossed over his chest. “And you probably wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping next to goats”. “You expect me to sleep next to you”, I hissed. He let out a small chuckle, opening his eyes; and looking out of the corner of them at me. “At least you have a soft bed and a warm breakfast waiting for you in the morning, just like you’re used to”.

I found it difficult to control my rage. “Why do you act as if I don’t know hardship? I’ve spent winters hungry when I visited Faroe and the South Islands!”, I scoffed. “You had a choice to stay or go home. They do not. That, woman, is privilege”.

I jolted slightly from his use of the word woman. It was the first time he’d recognized that was what I was; and he seemed to realize this himself. He looked up into the ceiling; then closed his eyes, and turned his back to me.

“Now shut up. You’ve already kept me awake for two days and nights. Let me have a few hours of rest”, he rumbled. “Before I have to deal with your shit again”.

Once again, I had no answer, and I simply laid there – angry, sad; and well aware that he was right – about everything.

---

My sleep was restless. I woke several times to the sounds of grunts and moans from the rooms around us. I could swear one of the times I heard Jaskier giggling like a little boy; “Gertie… no… ooh! Well, when you put it like that…”.

The room smelled like cabbage, and it would have been dreadfully cold; had it not been for the witchers warm body resting so close to mine. He was breathing calmly; rhythmically. He turned over, facing me; eyes still closed, sleeping.

I watched him; holding my breath. Something was burning inside me; a feeling I knew perfectly well what was – but didn’t want to acknowledge.

His hand moved. It slid across the pillow between us; his fingertips lightly touching my arm for a second – sending a strange current through my body – before he gripped the grey slipcase, and scrunching it up in his hand. He furrowed his brow and exhaled deeply, seeming to have faced something very difficult in his dreams. I wanted to probe those dreams and see what he was seeing.

He suddenly cleared his throat; and I closed my eyes quickly, pretending to sleep.

“That’s a bad, bad bard…”, I heard from the next room over; followed by another giggle, what sounded like a cork popping, and then a yelp.

I kept my eyes closed, and tried to ignore the sounds. After a long time, sleep took me over.

---

A loud banging jostled us awake.

“Geralt!”, Jaskier yelled. “Geralt, she was married! We need to leave!”.

The witcher groaned in irritation, and got out of the bed; making me sink into the mattress. I struggled to sit up, keeping the covers over my body.

The witcher opened the door, and Jaskier leapt inside to safety, pressing his back against it to hold it closed. He looked at my confused face.

“I swear, I didn’t know”, he whispered; before – with an apologetic smirk – adding; “… in truth, we didn’t do much talking”.

“You’re an idiot, Jaskier”, the witcher grumbled. “It was bound to catch up to you at some point”.

“You’re not going to help me?”, the bard whined. “No”, was the answer.

The sound of footsteps thundered up the stairs. “I’ll get the whoreson!”, someone roared, and began hammering on the doors to the rooms around us.

“Geralt!”, Jaskier almost screeched at the witcher. He made a guttural sound. “Fine”, he said. “Keep out of sight”. He removed his shirt, leaving him in his breeches. I gulped slightly from the sight.

Jaskier crawled under the bed in a very undignified way. I could almost feel the mattress shaking from him shivering in fear underneath it.

Someone banged on our door. “Open up! Let me have that son of a dog!”.

The witcher opened the door calmly; staring down the bucktoothed man standing outside.

“Which is it?”, the witcher asked. “Is he a whoreson, or a dog’s son? Or is he both? Maybe the whore is a dog”. The man looked at him angrily. “This is none of your concern, witcher. I just want the bastard who I saw sneaking out of my Gerties door this morn’”.

Jaskier let out a small squeak from under the bed. The man didn’t seem to have heard him.

The witcher sighed. “You come here and jostle me out of bed, and the warm arms of this lady…”, he gestured at me, making me blush, “… to claim that I am hiding some poor sod who happened to cuckold you”. The man seemed to consider his words. The witcher continued. “My state of undress – and that of my female companion here – should make it quite clear to you, that I have other things to do; than be a living sanctuary for some bard, who happened to know how to sweettalk his way in to your wife’s bed”.

The mans face was turning red. “The cur arrived here same time as you – you must know where he is!”.

The witchers eyes became dark, and he bared his teeth. “You should worry more about where your wife is. It seems that if you’d done that in the first place, none of us would be in this situation”. He grabbed the man’s collar; making him shake in fear. “Now, fuck off!”.

“Right!”, the man whimpered. “I’ll go… speak to Gertie. Maybe I was mistaken”. The witcher groaned menacingly, and let go of the man – making him scuttle down the stairs faster than any mouse running from a cat.

The witcher closed the door, and turned around to face us.

The sunlight seeping through the small window lit up his naked torso. My breath hitched at the sight.

His chest was broad and firm, covered in the dark hair I’d seen a glimpse of the night before. The hair travelled down his muscular stomach; into his breeches. The sight of his toned physique made me understand how he could be so strong. It looked like he spent every day picking up boulders, and throwing them around. I supposed those boulders were more likely monsters; but either way, the exercise kept him at what seemed to be peak physical condition.

It was then I noticed the scars; so many of them, spread across his body. I’d known they would be there – witcher as he was – but the sight of them surprised me.

His amber eyes met mine. I didn’t mean to smile; but it happened. Suddenly he looked uneasy. He grabbed his shirt, and quickly put it on.

Jaskier crawled out from under the bed. “Well that was something!”, he declared smilingly. He sat himself down on the bed, and looked from the witcher to me; to the rope still tying me to the bed. His face went white. “Did I… interrupt something?”, he asked.

“No”, the witcher answered, and put on his boots. “If you insist on continuing on with us as far as Tigg, get your things and be ready to leave as soon as you can. I’m not going to help you if you get caught up by another jilted husband”.

Jaskier nodded, and hurried out the door.

The witcher walked up to me, and threw my knife on the bed. I used it to cut myself free. He turned around to let me get out of the bed and put on my dress. I remembered to slip the knife down my boot again.

We went downstairs. The table we’d occupied the night before was set with oatmeal porridge and some sausages. I sat down, and began eating – my stomach rumbling from hunger. The witcher smirked at me. “Better than mutton?”, he asked. I nodded with a half-smile.

“Who let in that bleeding cat again?”, the barman who’d served us said.

A grey, one-eyed tomcat prowled across the floor towards a fly resting there. With a jump it tried to catch its prey; only to have it fly away at the last minute. The cat looked up at me and hissed.

“Watch out for that one, miss. It’s feral. Hasn’t left a man or woman unscathed if they got too near”. I got up, and crouched down by the cat. It hissed at me again, before putting it’s paw up; as if reaching for me. I smiled at it, and blinked, slowly. The cat blinked back, put its paw back to the ground; and pressed its forehead to my outreached hand. I scratched its ear.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”, I said; and grabbed a piece of sausage from my plate; putting it on the floor in front of the cat. It instantly gobbled down the meat. “Hello, kitty. I’m Zaba”, I smiled; feeling the witchers eyes on my back. I sat down on my chair again, and the now purring bundle of fur stroked itself against my legs. I chuckled, and gave it a scratch under its chin. It was skinny; I could feel every bone in its body.

“Never seen it do that”, the barman said in wonder. “Did you ever try feeding it?”, I said. “Then it wouldn’t be hungry enough to go for the mice”, he answered. “It might be more keen to help you with that, if you didn’t treat it like so badly”, I mumbled.

The witcher looked at me with narrowed eyes.

The barman took a piece of dried meat from a hook hanging over the fire; and threw it at the cat. It jumped at the treat; almost swallowing it whole. I smiled.

The witcher made to leave; and I followed his lead. He walked up to the barman, and slipped some coins into his hand. “For your hospitality”, he said. “Take good care of the cat”, he added; a gruff warning in his voice. The barman swallowed hard, and nodded. My heart jumped a little, and I smiled again. “Thank you, master”, the barman said.

We walked out the door; and went to the small stable to get Roach.

“Thank you”, I half whispered to the witchers back. He grunted in response, looking over his shoulder at me; eyes warm.

Jaskier met us by the edge of the village; having somehow procured for himself an ass, that was now carrying his lute and satchel. “Took you long enough”, he complained. “Let’s leave this wretched place”.

Walking away from the village, I looked over my shoulder and saw my new feline friend looking at us from out the window of the inn. Someone scratched its ear, and it jumped out of sight.

---

Thanks for reading.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

- no lady

Tag list:

@ayamenimthiriel

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher fic #jaskier

71 notes · View notes

noladyme · 4 years ago

Text

The Frog Princess. Chapter 8

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

We rode for days, due northeast; each mile we put behind us bringing me closer to my inevitable end. At least, that was how it felt. I felt my limbs growing stronger from riding and carrying wood for fires; and though the sun was never shining brightly; my skin grew more tanned by the day.

Geralt had begun to train me with the sword he’d taken from O’Dimm’s man. I wasn’t a skilled swordswoman by any means; but I was sure I’d be able to defend myself in a fair fight. We made breaks for eating, resting, training, arguing, making up; and the occasional fuck against a tree – a least once a day, on a bad day.

On one of these occasions; in his eagerness; Geralt almost ripped the buttons off the breeches Ajvin had given me. “Fuck!”, he growled. “I don’t like these things; they make it too difficult to have you”. “You were the one who insisted I need new clothes”, I laughed. “Besides, practicality over easy access”. I opened the buttons myself, and slid down the breeches over my bottom; before bracing myself against a tree with my hands, and pushing my backside out.

Geralt accepted the invitation, and felt for my wetness; before pushing himself into me, slowly. “I thought you were in a hurry”, I breathed in complaint. Geralt pulled himself back; and slammed back into me, hard. “Shit!”, I cried out. “Too much?”, Geralt chuckled hoarsely. One of his hands held on to my hip; the other found my nub, and stroked it to the rhythm of his thrusts. “W-why do you always ask that?”, I panted. He slid his arm around my torso, and took a light hold of my throat; pulling me flush against his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you”, he said, kissing my neck. “You haven’t yet”, I smiled; before groaning loudly, as he pushed himself hard into me again.

He let me come before finding his own relief – as always; inside me. I suspected it was his way of making his mark on me – even if we both knew there was no chance of a child coming out of it.

After cleaning myself up – with a clean wet cloth provided by an embarrassed looking Geralt – I straightened my clothes. I’d had to make alterations to them – clearly they were Ajvids own old clothing; including the purple shirt that hung low on my shoulders. My new outfit furthermore consisted of dark grey breeches, that I’d adjusted so they hung snugly to my frame – making a certain witcher have to occasionally adjust himself, when I bent over – and a dark brown leather jerkin, without sleeves. I still had my grey cloak; which kept me somewhat warm during the nights, when Geralt had to patrol the area around our camps for sounds he’d heard – and therefore could not lay next to me.

There was a strange domesticity to our days. As if we’d be travelling like this for the rest of our lives. But we won’t, I kept reminding myself.

The man travelling with me – my lover, my friend, my confidant – was transporting me closer and closer to a land further from mine than I had ever been. The man who spent most of his nights between my legs and staring into my eyes; was handing me over to a stranger, who would from then on have a claim on doing those things himself. The thought made me sick to my stomach; but I kept returning to it, to remind myself – so that my heart wouldn’t break as much when the day came that our journey was at an end.

The glade we were occupying was quiet. Food had been scarce for a few days, as we hadn’t come across any villages; and it seemed that most of the wildlife had fled. I sat by the dying embers at our fire, thinking.

“I want to see Mousesack”, I said, catching Geralt of guard. “Why?”, he asked, voice gruff. “He has information for me. The butcher’s wife said so”. Geralt poured a bowl of water over the embers. “He’s going the opposite direction than we are”, he said dismissively. “Who’s eager to reach our destination now?”, I mumbled.

Geralt went to pack Roach’s saddlebags. He still kept our horses apart, for fear that Bayrd should act on his carnal desires towards his mare. “I don’t want to do this now”, he said. “Do what?”, I asked. “Fight”, he answered. “I’m not fighting”, I said, standing to kick dirt into the smoking ashes in front of me. “I’m stating facts. You made a contract to transport me to Temeria. You are acting on it. I’m just surprised you were in such a hurry to get rid of me”. I clenched my jaw.

Geralt grunted, and continued his task, moving on to Bayrds saddle. “I understand it, you know”, I said, putting on my cloak. “You’re a witcher. I age; and you do not. Besides, you’ve already had me every which way you could want”. “Stop…”, he muttered. “It’s inevitable that you were bound to get sick of me at some point…”, my voice broke. “Stop!”, he roared.

He strode up to me; and took my face in his hands. “Y/N”, he said. “You are the furthest thing from easy to be around. You are stubborn; rash; you never listen… and your mushroom stew is bad enough to kill a dead man”. He put his forehead to mine. “And I would have you no other way. I wish I could keep you; but that’s not how destiny has made it”. “Fuck destiny”, I snarled. He chuckled. “If only I could”, he answered. He kissed my forehead; and wrapped his arms around me. My eyes welled up, and I cried against his shoulder.

“I have to see Mousesack”, I whispered through my tears. Geralt exhaled. “I know. But I don’t know where to find him for you”, he said. “We can’t go backwards…”.

He was interrupted by a rumbling of hooves, that almost made the ground quake. He pushed me towards the trees. “Go! Cover your face. Don’t let them see you!”, he hissed, and pulled his sword from his back. I ran to Bayrd, and grabbed my new sword; then fled towards the edge of the trees; crouching behind the largest one I could find.

The riders approaching bore Cintran colors. It was a large group; of about 20 men; all dressed in armor. I saw Geralt glance in my direction, before facing the rider at the front.

“Witcher!”, the man called. “What is your business so close to Ortagor?”. Geralt relaxed his stance. “I have a contract”, he answered. “A bruxa. Near the border of Sodden”. “And your companion?”, the man asked. “I have no companion”, Geralt said. “Since when do witchers travel with two horses?”, the man barked.

Geralt put his sword back in its sheath. “No answer?”, the soldier said. “You’d do best to respect your betters, mutant”. Geralt clenched his jaw. “Right!”, the soldier called to the men behind him. “Take the mare. As a gift for her majesty’s war efforts”. Geralt snarled and went to draw his sword again.

“Calm the fuck down, Thaggert!”, a familiar voice called. “I have enough horses. Besides, I like the stallion better”.

From the middle of the group of riders, strode a tall woman; dressed in intricately decorated armor. She got of her horse, and walked up to Geralt; flanked by two of the soldiers. “Witcher”, she hissed. I recognized her instantly. Calanthe. The Lioness of Cintra!

“Your majesty”, Geralt grumbled; and nodded slightly. Nothing in the world could get him to bow to anyone, I knew that – something that at that moment made me fear for his life.

“You made a promise!”, she snarled. “I did, your majesty. And I am upholding that promise as we speak”, Geralt answered her. “I am here for a contract”. “What contract?”, Calanthe demanded. “As I told your man”, he replied. “Bruxa. Near Sodden”. Calanthe spat at the ground. “Horse shit”, she said. “We were just coming from Sodden; no word of vampires there. Tell me the truth”. Geralt exhaled slowly. “Men!”, Calanthe called. The soldiers drew their swords.

“He’s here with me!”, I yelled; and stepped out from behind the tree. Geralt looked at me angrily. I sent him an indifferent look back. “You? Show your face girl”, Calanthe barked.

I stepped into the glade, and pulled down my hood. Calanthes face lit up. “Y/N!”, she laughed. “What are you doing here, girl?”. She stomped up to me, and took me in her arms for a tight squeeze. “Lower your weapons, men. This is the lady Y/N, my husband’s cousin”, she said; and patted my cheek. “And; the future queen of Temeria!”.

The soldiers on the ground took a knee, and the ones still on horses bowed their necks to me. I felt a strange knot in my stomach. “Where is your guard, girl? Your following?”, she asked. I nodded in the direction of Geralt. “Him?”, Calanthe asked; frowning bewilderedly at me. “He is… my guard”, I answered. Calanthe stepped back, looking from me to Geralt. “What in Hels ass was Eist thinking?”, she snarled. Calanthe was married to a Skelliger, not one herself – but she had taken on some of our profanities; at least the ones she liked.

I walked towards Geralt. “My cousin seemed to find it a necessity to keep my travel arrangements a mystery to certain parties. So, he hired the witcher”. The queen laughed sarcastically. “Oh, I am going to have words with my husband”, she growled.

One of the riders called out to her. “Your majesty; Ortagor awaits your arrival”. Calanthe sighed. “Yes, yes. Someone is always awaiting my arrival”, she groaned. “We take them with us. The lady rides along side me… the witcher takes the back. Keep an eye on him”.

Geralt sent me a poignant look, and went to saddle up on Roach. Before he got all the way over to the mare; Calanthe grasped his arm and looked at him – her eyes ablaze. “If it wasn’t for my cousin-in-law, your head would be rolling on the ground!”. Geralt tried for a mediating expression. “Your majesty…”. “Don’t!”, Calanthe hissed. “If I hear you’ve been asking about the child – even so much as mentioned Pavetta – I’ll personally cut of your bollocks, and feed them to my dogs!”.

My heart dropped. Geralts eyes found mine for a second; before falling to the ground. Calanthe let go of his arm, and went back to join her men.

I went to saddle up, my hands shaking so much in the process, I almost lost my footing in the stirrup. One of the soldiers on the ground grabbed my calf; and helped me up. I could feel Geralts eyes on us.

---

The ride to Ortagor wasn’t long; but it felt like an eternity. I was deep in thought.

“How is my husband?”, Calanthe suddenly asked from beside me. She’d caught me off guard. “What?”, I said. She chuckled at me. “I said, how is my husband?”. I smiled. “Well, last I saw him. No less annoying, no more regal”, I said. “Good”, the queen laughed. “And his bed?”. Her eyes were suddenly hard. “Empty, save for him”, I assured her. She grunted, satisfied.

We rode on in silence for a little while. “And… the princess Pavetta. How does she fare?”, I asked as casually as I could. Calanthes face hardened slightly. “About to pop”, she said. “She’s going the way you came. Eist convinced me she should give birth in Skellige, for some reason”. I felt a rush of blood to my head. “Oh!”, I said. “I didn’t know. Congratulations!”. Calanthe scoffed. I tried to smile. “And the father is?...”. “Not who I would have picked”, she snarled. “But... no matter now. The child will be loved and raised by the right people”. I smiled and nodded; wanting to scream.

We arrived at the fortress of Ortagor to great fanfare; the crowds cheering for their queen. All around people were celebrating the arrival of the Great Lioness; with drink and music. Great, I thought. Another feast. Just what I needed. I was in no mood for any celebrations myself.

We unsaddled, and followed the queen towards the great hall. I suddenly felt a tug on my arm. Geralt was looking at me with hard eyes. “Little frog…”, he said. “Not now”, I stopped him, and pulled my arm from his grasp.

“Witcher!”, Calanthe called from behind us. “Lady Y/N is perfectly safe within these walls. We have no need for you. Go do whatever it is, your kind do”. Geralt clenched his jaw. “My kind eat, drink and rest when we can”, he said. She looked at him dismissively. “You can do that at the other end of the hall; where I don’t have to look at you”, she said. “Come, girl. We have feasting to do!”.

I followed the queen into the hall – having much rather wanted to find a dark corner to calm myself. As the door opened; horns blazed a salute. “Yes, yes. Fuck off. I’m here now”, Calanthe growled, and threw her helmet at a servant. “Music!”.

A familiar voice began a song I had heard before.

“Once a lady from Kaer Trolde fared, with skin so smooth, and beautiful hair. She held the heart of many a man; but mouths stood agape, when she speaking began.”

Jaskier!

“Foul mouthed lady, be kind onto me And I’ll be your thrall, I will never flee. Foul mouthed princess, have mercy, I plea And I shall be ever a servant of thee”

The crowd sang along to the chorus.

“The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles The foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess, the foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles!”

Jaskier strummed the last chord to a roar of applause. He bowed and sent air kisses to a buxom redhaired girl standing nearby.

I sat down next to Calanthe at the head table; and soon food and drinks were placed in front of us. Catching Jaskiers eye; he rushed over. “Your majesty”, he said; and bowed so deep his nose was almost touching the floor. “My lady Y/N!”. “You know each other?”, Calanthe asked. I cleared my throat cautiously. “We met in Skellige”. Calanthe grinned. “No…”, she laughed. “You’re the foulbreathed princess?”. “Foulmouthed, your majesty”, Jaskier smiled. “I’m quite certain there’s nothing wrong with the lady’s breath”. I chuckled nervously. “My lady, where is…”, he began. “The witcher”, I interrupted, sending him a poignant look. “He is somewhere in the hall; probably buried in some servant girl’s cleavage”. Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “As he does…”, he said.

Calanthe threw a gold coin at the bard. “Go. Do your work, minstrel. I want music and cheering. It’s been a long day”. Jaskier bowed. “As you wish your majesty”. He sent me a final look, and went back to the makeshift stage in the middle of the room, to play for the dancing crowds.

“So”, Calanthe said, smiling at me. “You’re on your way to Foltest, I’m told”. “I am”, I replied. “You seem… less than pleased”, she continued. I sighed. “Am I supposed to be pleased to be shipped of to a man twice my age? – with an inbred daughter to boot…”, I said; and took a sip from the goblet in front of me. Calanthe tightened her lips. “Temeria is not much different than Skellige”, she said. “Less water surrounding it… The winters are cold as a witch’s tit, but the summers are bearable”. I scoffed. “It’s not the weather that concerns me”.

Realizing the quail in front of me had been served without utensils for carving it; I pulled my knife from my boot, and cut in to the bird – ravished from the last few days lack of real food.

Calanthe smirked. “Travelling with the witcher has made you rough, Y/N”. I looked down at my dirty nails; realizing she was right. “I told Eist to get you your sgian-dubh for your 15’th birthday”. Calanthe and Eist had been sending each other eyes for years before they were married in a small ceremony, I’d heard very little about. She’d visited for my coming of age celebration years before – mostly, I think, to see my cousin. “He wanted to give you a new dress”. I laughed out loud. “Of course he did”, I said. “Yes, well”, she continued. “I would have gotten one for Pavetta, but apparently that is cultural appropriation”, she sneered. I held my tongue.

She looked at me solemnly. “He cares for you deeply, Y/N. I know this isn’t the union you’d dreamt of… but it is the right move”. “For your war?”, I said hesitantly, careful not to look the lioness in the eyes – admittedly, she scared me, and for good reason. “It’s true”, Calanthe admitted. “Foltest has promised his help in the war effort, in return for his marriage to you; and the dowry you bring with you”.

We were quiet for a while. “The witcher”, the queen began again. “He protects you well?”. I half smiled. “He does”, I said. She took a long sip from her goblet. “And in bed?” My face turned white. “I-i… that’s not…”, I tried. “Come now, Y/N”, Calanthe smirked. “I’ve seen how he looks at you”. “And how’s that?”, I said; trying for dismissive. “Like you’re a freshly cooked rabbit; and he hasn’t eaten in a week. Reminds me of how Eist would look at me, before he had me the first time”. She smirked, and took a bite of her quail. “More like a frog”, I muttered. “What’s that?”, she asked. “Nothing”, I answered.

She leant back in her chair, and looked at me seriously. “He’s not a good man, Y/N”, she said. ”I’m beginning to see that”, I answered.

We ate the rest of our meal in silence; only interrupted by the occasional lord coming forward to wish health on my upcoming marriage. I wanted to stab each and everyone of them in the neck.

---

A guard was posted outside the room I had been given for the night. It was larger than the one Geralt and I had shared in Tigg, and much grander in its decorations. A large bed with beautifully embroidered bedding; rich carpets decorated the walls and floor; a table set with fruits and wine; a roaring fireplace, and – thank the gods – a warm bath in front of it.

I shed my dirty clothes, and stepped into the tub; lowering myself into the water, until only my face was above the surface. For the first time in days – weeks – I was alone. And I cried. I wept so long that it felt like there were no tears left in the world. My chest hurt from the contractions of my sobbing; and I was beginning to struggle for breath in the end.

I heard a skirmish outside the door. Someone was banging loudly at it. “You can’t go in. The lady is not to be disturbed!”. “She’s in my charge, and I’ll see her!”. I recognized Geralts voice.

I stepped out of the tub, and put on the clean robe that had been warming by the fire. Opening the door, I saw Geralt pressing his lower arm against the neck of the guard; forcing him against the wall. Two other guards were holding their swords to his back.

“It’s fine”, I said. “Let him in”. “But my lady; Queen Calanthe made it perfectly clear…”, the man against the wall said. “Fuck off, dingleberry”, I growled; earning a gasp from all three guards. Geralt removed his arm from the man, and the three guards slowly stepped back. “Foulmouthed princess, indeed…”, I heard one of them mumble, as they walked away.

I stepped aside for Geralt to enter the room. He looked around; as always ready for an attack from any corner. They’d taken his weapons and armor, it seemed; as he was left with only his plain clothes. “The bathwater is cold”, I said; and sat down by the table. Geralt grunted and went to stand by the fire.

“I heard you cry”, he said. “From where?”, I asked. “From the courtyard”. I covered my face in embarrassment. “No one else heard you”, he said. “Right…”, I mumbled; remembering his enhanced hearing.

Geralt went to take my hand; and examined my face. “What’s wrong?”, he asked. I pulled my hand away from him furiously. “A 15 year-old girl, Geralt”, I snarled. “How could you?”. He looked genuinely confused. “The child!”, I said. “And here I thought witchers couldn’t procreate”. “We can’t…”, he grumbled.

I stood up, and threw an apple into the fireplace; cracking it against the back wall. The juices dripped down, and made the fire sputter. “Then, why…”, I growled, punching him as hard as I could in the chest; “… is princess Pavetta on her way to Skellige to give birth to your child?”.

His face went from confused, to relieved – to finally; angry. “You think I would get a girl pregnant, and then just leave her? A princess, no less?”, he scoffed. “Do you not know me?” “No!”, I yelled. “I don’t know you. At all!”. He took a step backwards. “No”, he said. “It seems you don’t”. He walked towards the door. “We leave in the morning. Your husband will want to see you soon”.

I lost all composure. Picking up the entire bowl of fruit from the table; I threw it at his back; grapes, oranges, plums and apples splattering across his shirt. And then I screamed.

Geralt growled, and sped at me; grabbing my shoulders, and throwing me on the bed. I clawed at his face – doing my best to scratch him – but he held my wrists down. “Stop!”, he roared “Go to Hel!”, I screamed. “You can go right along with me, woman!”, he answered.

I wrestled myself free from his grasp and struck at his head. He narrowly avoided my hand by rolling onto his back; and I straddled him – once again getting my wrists caught in his grasp.

Suddenly the door opened, and the three guards were standing in the opening. “My lady!...”, one of them called. “Get the fuck out!”, Geralt and I roared at the same time; staring at the dumbstruck men. They silently closed the door. “Bloody crazy, that one”, I heard one of them say through the door, as they walked away.

I got off Geralt; and laid on my back next to him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”, I said. “There’s nothing to tell”, he answered. “But you have a child on the way with another woman!”, I half whimpered. “And you are marrying another man!”, he grunted. I sat up and shook my head in exhaustion. “I never wanted to marry him!”, I said. “And I never wanted a child”, he muttered. I stood up, picked up an orange from the floor, and threw it at him. He sat up, and looked at me angrily. “Would you stop throwing fruit at me?”, he snarled.

I scoffed. “You never wanted a child”, I hissed. “Maybe you should have thought of that, before you stuck your dick in the 15 year-old lion-cub of Cintra!”. “I didn’t!”, he roared, making me jump. “It’s a child of surprise!”.

He walked over to me slowly; prepared for more flying fruit. “It was an accident”, he said. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, and neither did the father when I asked him for the law of surprise. I thought it would earn me a keg of ale at the most”. I laughed, and shook my head. “A keg of ale?”, I said. “You stupid man…”.

He put his hands on either side of my face. “Yes. Stupid enough to fall for a woman, who by rights belongs to someone else”. He put his forehead to mine. “Stupid enough to want your heart, when I know it’s not mine to have”.

I put my hands on his chest; and grabbed at the fabric of his shirt. “What are we doing, Geralt?”, I whimpered. “Everything wrong, it seems”, he groaned.

He pulled back from me; holding on to my shoulders; and boring his amber eyes into mine. “I can’t help it, little frog”, he said. “You said you didn’t want to be a part of someone else. But you are. You’ve shaped me; and I’ve shaped you. It’s unavoidable”. A single tear fell from my eyes. “But it doesn’t mean you have to lose yourself; or I myself”, he continued. “It only means that we... change”. I sniffled – embarrassed at my own reaction to his words. “But you said you don’t change…” He smiled. “I have changed. You’ve been a part of that change”, he breathed. “You wrote your name on my life, as I have written mine on yours. No matter where I travel and who I meet; you have made your mark on me. We aren’t an entity; but we are two of a whole”.

I put my hands on either side of his face; and laughed through my tears. “Please stop crying”, he said. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”, I sniveled. “Yes”, he admitted. I laughed out loud. “For someone so uneasy with human emotion, you do have a way with words”, I said. “Only for you, my lady”, he whispered; and kissed my lips.

---

We made love softly that night; taking care to not leave an inch of the other untouched. Geralts lips were the nourishment of my being, it seemed; and he let those lips touch every part of me that would bring me pleasure – seemingly finding pleasure himself, in nothing but the moans and whimpers he could draw from me. I came undone so many times I lost count, and the witcher came along with me. We were two of a whole.

When morning came; we hadn’t gotten much sleep – but for some reason, I’d never felt more awake. I knew what needed to happen. I knew that we would continue on our journey to Temeria; that I would marry Foltest; and that it would break both of our hearts when I did. There was nothing else that could be done.

I could not spend the rest of my life travelling with this man. I’d grow old, and he wouldn’t. I couldn’t be chasing monsters around the continent; when I was old and grey, and my bones were creaking. He could not give me children. Not that I was sure I wanted any; but our lives together would never be truly fulfilled – and his job never truly done.

We had each other now. And should we never see one another again; the marks we’d left on the others being would never be erased.

Geralts head was resting on my chest, and I was running my fingers through his hair; when there was a knock at the door. “Come in, Jaskier”, I called – quickly covering myself with the sheets.

The bard stepped inside; almost tripping over a plum. He looked around the room – stray fruit scattered across the floor. “Well”, he smirked. “Nothings changed here; I see”. He sat down by the table; pouring himself a goblet of wine. “So… when do we leave?”.

Geralt and me both looked at him with wonder. “Whose wife did you diddle this time?”, Geralt grumbled; laying back in the bed with his arms behind his head. I chuckled. “Uhm, sister; actually”, Jaskier replied; and took a sip of the wine. “Mmm! 1249; good year”. “Jaskier?...”, Geralt demanded. “Some lord, or another”, the bard said dismissively. “Apparently Jas… Jel… Jissanya, it was. Well, she’d been promised to Aretuza”. He looked at me apologetically. “They are quite fond of their virgins there. But I can tell you right now; that girl was not a maiden!”.

“Hels ass, Jaskier. Are you insistent on getting yourself killed before the end of the year?”, I chuckled at him. He stood up, looked at me; hurt in his eyes. “What if I told you it was true love?”, he said. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, you’re right. It would never work”, he chuckled.

I went to get out of bed, and gestured for him to turn around. “What?”, he shrugged. Geralt sat up and looked at him menacingly. “All right, all right. It’s not like any of you have anything I haven’t seen before – right, Geralt?”, the bard smirked; and covered his eyes with his hands. “I don’t want to know what that means”, I mumbled, and went to get dressed behind a divider in the corner.

---

We were met in the courtyard by Calanthe and her men from the day before. “Lady Y/N”, the queen said. “I hear there was trouble in your room last night”. My face reddened. “No trouble, your majesty”, I said. “Just… a discussion on our next move”. “Hmm…”, Calanthe frowned, looking from Geralt to me. “I trust you remember our conversation?”. I nodded and smiled. “I remember it well”, I said. “And I trust you, of anyone, will understand why I must live the life I choose, until I have to live the life I must”. Her face contracted into a smile for a second. “I do, my dear”. She sighed. “I just wish you hadn’t chosen as you have”. I smiled again.

“Thank you for your kind hospitality, your majesty”, I said. “And thank you for sacrifice”, she answered. “This is my war; but part of the burden of it has fallen upon you. If I could, I would undo it”. She looked at me earnestly; and then held my face in her hands; putting her forehead to mine. “If Foltest ever… should he ever be cruel to you; I will come up there; and I will rip his cock of with my bare hands”. I laughed. “I might take you up on that offer”. She chuckled, and kissed my forehead. “Be well, cousin”, she whispered.

Jaskier cleared his throat. “I am very sorry to disturb this special moment, your majesty, but I think one of the lords in there has an arrow with my name on it”. Geralt grunted.

“Witcher”, Calanthe said, letting go of me. “You will protect this woman with your life”. “You have my word”, Geralt said, and nodded at her. She narrowed her eyes at him. ”And go north. There are Nilfgaardian outposts further east”. Geralt frowned, and nodded again. “All right”, she said. “Now fuck off, all of you”.

We saddled up; Geralt and me on Roach; and Jaskier on – a quite unhappy – Bayrd.

On our way out the gates; I turned to the bard. “Jaskier; do you like my mushroom stew?”

He didn’t answer.

---

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noladyme · 4 years ago

Text

The Princess Frog. Chapter 13

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

“Wake up!”. It was still dark. “Y/N. Wake up!”.

Jaskier was standing over me.

“Hels ass; Jaskier. For once I’d like to just wake up, and…”. He hushed me. “Soldiers. Downstairs”. I frowned, and looked around the room. “Where’s Geralt?”. Jaskier shook his head. “He went to check on the horses a couple of hours ago”, he whispered. “At least I think he did. I didn’t talk to him when he left. I was… busy”. I saw that the witchers clothes, armor and weapons were gone. For a second, I felt sick – Did he leave me? He wouldn’t – I knew that. But if he’d been gone so long… Why didn’t he wake me up?

Someone banged at the door. “Oy, witcher. Open up!”. Jaskiers eyes widened. I thought fast. “Take your shirt off!”. “What?”, the bard squeaked. “Just take of the fucking shirt, and get in to bed”. Another banging. “We lied to the royal guard stationed here, to gain access to the kings court-enchantress”, I hissed. “I’m naked in the witchers room – supposed to be engaged to you – they’re going to have questions; that none of us will be able to answer!”.

“Open the bloody door!”, the voice barked again. “Geralts going to kill me”, Jaskier mumbled below his breath; took off his shirt; and crawled under the covers – taking care to avoid touching me.

A loud crash, and three guards where standing in the room – one of them, the first guard Geralt had spoken to at the gates of the city. He looked at us, and frowned. “W-what’s going on?”, Jaskier stammered. The guard drew his lips into a sneer. “What are you doing in here?”, he asked. Jaskier patted my head, as if I was a dog. “I think it’s quite clear what we’re doing”, he smiled nervously. I smiled alongside him.

The guard looked confused. “This is the witchers room, the barman said…”. “Yes, it is. He…”, Jaskier began. “Lent it to us!”, I smiled. “I wanted some privacy with my Jasky, here”, I giggled, and put my head on the bard’s shoulder. Jaskiers face scrunched up. “Oh… darling”. He was making his best impression of a lover caught in the act. You’d think he had experience.

“Right”, the guard said. “Get dressed; both of you. The guard commander will want to see you”. He stared at us with cold eyes. “Is it possible you could go outside?”, I asked. “My fiancée is dreadfully shy”. Jaskier giggled nervously next to me. The guard scoffed, and went outside; closing the door behind him.

I pushed Jaskier out of the bed. “You smell like cherry-wine and cheap perfume”. He sneered at me. “Well, you smell like…”, he began. “Actually, you smell quite lovely… But that…”, he said and pointed towards where the guard had stood, “… was just as unpleasant for me, as it was for you!”. I scoffed. “Turn around, so I can get dressed”, I said. The bard did as he was told.

I quickly put my clothes back on; and we left the room to join the guards – both trying for embarrassed; why yes, we just had sex expressions.

We were led back to the keep; one of the guards holding on to Bayrds reins as we rode. Roach had been gone from the stables. Geralt, where are you? I couldn’t help but return to that horrifying thought I’d had earlier. The paralyzing fear, that the witcher had changed his mind. That he thought it would be easier to just let the royal guard have me, so he could go back to his normal life – whatever that was. Jaskier must have felt me tense up in front of him; so he gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “He’s fine”, he whispered. I’m sure he is; but why isn’t he here?

At the other end of the keep, than where Triss’ room had been; we were greeted by a stout man; dressed in the same uniform, as the guards that had taken us to him. His demeanor was more regal than theirs, though; making it clear that this was someone of importance. “I am commander Flaxon”, he proclaimed – his well-groomed mustachio bouncing up and down with his upper lip. “And you are?”.

I bumped Jaskiers shoulder – leeting a meek expression cover my face. “I-i am Jaskier. The bard… The bard Jaskier. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”, he said nervously. “Aren’t you the one with that foulmouthed princess song?”, one of the lower ranking guards asked. “The one and only”, Jaskier smiled. The bard laughed. “That’s a good one, that one”, he grinned. “Who’s it about?”. I let my heel meet the bard’s toes. “Ow!”, he hissed. “It… it’s pure imagination”. “Oh, too bad”, the guard said. “She sounds like a lovely one”.

“Bayard!”, Flaxon barked. The guard stepped back and looked at the floor. The commander faced us again. “I am told you were found in the witcher – Geralt of Rivia’s – room”, he said. “That same witcher – it comes to pass – who two years ago took 4000 oren from a Maribor merchant; to help him with a pest problem - werewolf”, he almost spat. The commander went to sit at his desk. “After which; he disappeared. Leaving the merchant dead; and his family missing”.

My breath hitched. “That is not… something he would do…”, I tried. “Silence, woman!”, Flaxon spat. “Do not meddle in the business of men”. It took everything in me not to jump across that table and rip his throat out. Jaskier grabbed my wrist; sensing my inevitable burst of rage upon the man. “Darling… Zaba. Maybe you should sit down? You’ve had a trying few days”, he smiled tensely. I nodded, and took a deep breath to control my anger. A guard pulled out a chair for me; and Jaskier led me to it. “It’s that time of the month”, he whispered to the guard. I dug my nails into his wrist; and pulled him down to my ear. “I’ll make it your time of the month!”, I hissed. He let out a squeak, and I let go of him.

The commander leant back in his chair. “Tell me; where is the witcher?”, he said. Jaskier shook his head. “We haven’t seen him since last night; when he let us have his room. Have we, darling?”, he said, and looked at me. I shook my head. “Well”, Flaxon said. “You two seem to be important enough for the witcher to travel with – and rudely interrupt the court-sorceress in her business for – so we will keep you here; until he returns for you”. “Here?”, I asked. “Yes”, the commander proclaimed. “Your accommodations will not be as comfortable as the tavern; or indeed mistress Merigold’s chambers. But I trust you won’t have to stay long”. He stood up. “Once the witcher turns himself in; in exchange, we’ll let you go”. “Geralt turning himself in?”, Jaskier asked. The commander smirked. “He is a murderer. A thief”, he said. “He’ll be punished accordingly”.

It felt like a punch to the gut. I heaved for breath, and Jaskier grabbed my hand; holding it tight. Flaxon turned his back to us; and gestured to the guards. “Take them away”.

---

We were placed in a cell in the lower levels of the keep. It smelled like rot, and there was nothing but the bare floor and some old straw to lay on.

Jaskier sat with his back to the wall, looking at me as I paced the floor. “You have to tell them who you are”, he said. “No”. I answered. “My lady; this is not the time for being stubborn and too proud to…”.

I stopped and looked at him poignantly. “Geralt wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t take someone’s money, and kill them. He doesn’t kill humans…”. “I know, of course he wouldn’t”, Jaskier said. “But the commander seems to think he did. So, if you just tell them the truth; maybe we could convince him of that”.

I kicked at some of the loose straw on the ground. “Another thing we both know about Geralt, is that he is a proud bastard, who would rather die, than let anyone think a witcher – let alone himself – would do it. He would have made sure the commander knew the truth”. Jaskier seemed to think about my words. “So… what are you saying? I am very confused”, Jaskier said; and shook his head.

I sighed. “I am saying; that the commander is lying”. Jaskier frowned; then his face lit up. “Oh!”, he finally said. “I see now! That also means… that we are captured by a corrupt guard commander; miles away from any help. This is just marvelous”, he scoffed. “And...! they took my lute!”. I shook my head in disbelief. “But… that still doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tell them the truth”, Jaskier continued. “They would send us to Vizima, with an escort. Geralt could stay in hiding until this blows over”.

I inhaled through my teeth. “Yeah, I’m not sure”, I said apologetically. “If I tell them; that would mean that when they found us; you were in bed with king Foltests future wife”. Jaskier gulped. “Fuck…”, he whimpered. “Yeah…”, I agreed. “I would probably be fine – whereas you…”. Jaskier closed his eyes, and held up his hand to stop me. “Yes, thank you. I can imagine the rest myself”. He sighed. “So, what do we do?”.

I exhaled through my nose. “We escape”, I said. Jaskier smiled at me sarcastically. “That’s just a marvelous idea”, he scoffed. “Let me just get the door for you… oh right, I can’t. It’s locked; and there are guards standing outside it!”. I thought for a second. “Give me your boot”, I said. “What is it with you?”, Jaskier sneered. “Either you’re throwing fruit at me; or you’re asking me to undress!”. I clenched my jaw at the bard. “Jaskier!”. “All right, all right”, he mumbled; and handed over his boot. As I’d suspected, it was heavier than mine, and would do the trick. “Now sing…”, I demanded.

Jaskier frowned for a second; before I raised the boot in the air, as if to throw it at him. “T-toss a coin to your witcher; oh valley of plenty, oh valley of plenty, ooh…”.

“Shut up!”. Someone banged at the door. “Keep going!”, I whispered, and went to stand by the door, with my back to the wall. Jaskier looked frantic.

“Toss a coin to your witcher; a friend of humanity….”.

“Shut up, or I’ll come in there, and make you shut up!”. Good, so there was only one of them there outside. I gestured at Jaskier.

“Toss a coin to…”.

“Right, that’s it, I’m coming in!”. The cell door opened, and a guard stepped in. “I thought I told you…”, was as far as he got; before I struck him in the back of the head with the bards boot. He fell to the floor – out cold, but still breathing – and I handed Jaskier back his footwear. After he had slipped it back on; we snuck down the corridor. There were several more cells, most of which seemed empty; save for one, where a drunkard was snoring loudly. This is too easy, I thought; as we snuck around a corner, leading to the stairs into the courtyard.

It was too easy. At the top of the stairs, two guards and an angry looking dog where posted. “I’m not giving you my boot again!”, Jaskier whispered. “Can’t you so something… sorceressy?”. I looked at him indignantly. “I think I’ve drained enough frogs for a few days; don’t you?”, I hissed. Besides; I didn’t know what to say to drain, instead of give life – and I didn’t want to kill these men.

Our lack of a plan turned out to be less than a problem than we thought; when I realized that both guards where drunk out of their minds. “Look Faris”, one of them said. “I got me a flute”. He pulled out Jaskier’s lute, and began strumming it violently. “It’s a lute; Boras, you cunt”, the other said. “Give it here”. He ripped the lute from the first guards hands; and I could feel Jaskier tensing up next to me. “No, don’t hurt her…”, he whispered. The guard began strumming the instrument; and barking his way through a song.

“The foulmouthed princess of the Skellige Isles…”.

“He’s butchering it”, Jaskier whined. I patted his shoulder; and snuck up into the courtyard. I was about to make my way to the stable – where we had left Bayrd – when Jaskier grabbed my arm to stop me. “My lute!”, he pleaded. I sighed. “Get Bayrd”, I said. “Quiet!”.

I began moving towards the guards; still no actual plan. I noticed the dog lifting its head and looking in my direction; to where I was crouching behind a barrel. I made kissing-noises with my lips; and the dog got on its legs – growling. “Shut up, you stupid mut!”, one of the guards said; and kicked at the dog. It instantly whimpered and moved backwards; head to the ground. Bastards, I thought.

I made kissing-noises again, and the dog looked towards me. This time, I stuck my head out; patting the ground in front of me. The dog crawled towards me, low to the ground; still growling quietly. Once he reached me; I put my hand out for him to sniff; without looking him in the eye. Slowly, the dogs growling turned to a whimper, and he licked my hand. I scratched him behind his ear. “They aren’t very nice to you, are they?”, I said. “We should find you a better place”. The dog sat up, and bumped my shoulder with its head. “That’s a good boy”, I said, and scratched him under his chin. I slowly raised my eyes, and met the dogs gaze. He looked like he was listening to me; and bumped my shoulder again. “Do you think you could help me? Let’s give those bad men what they deserve, hmm?”.

I picked up a rock from the ground, and threw it at the guard with the lute. The confusion from the bump the rock made against his back; made him stumble in his drunkenness, and fall to his ass. The other man pointed at his friend, and laughed. I looked angrily at him, and began growling. The dog growled along with me. “Get him!”, I snarled; and pointed at the laughing man.

The dog ran at the guard; and bit into his leg, dragging him to the ground. I ran up to the guard with the lute, snatched the instrument from him; before kicking him in the head – knocking him out. The other guard was kicking at the dog; and I ran over to get him as well. Once they were both out cold, I went towards the stable; beckoning the dog to follow.

Jaskier had fetched Bayrd; and had happy tears in his eyes, when I gave him the lute. He hugged it like a child. “I am never letting go of you again”. “Let’s go!”, I said; and got onto the horse, letting Jaskier get on behind me. “Who’s is the dog?”, Jaskier asked. “His own”, I answered, and drove Bayrd forward; the dog at his heels.

We raced through the gates – open due to the drunken guards – and found ourselves at the city walls. The dog began barking; and a guard stepped into the light. “What are you doing here?”, he yelled. “We’re on our way out of the city… The dog is leading us to our travel companion”, I answered; heart in my stomach. The guard grunted; looked at the dog, and nodded. “Open the gates!”, he called.

I sighed in relief; and led Bayrd out of the city.

---

We rode northeast for an hour. It was still dark; fall already having begun to wain for winter in Temeria. I am so far away from home, I thought. “Where are we going?”, Jaskier asked. “I don’t know”, I said. I halted Bayrd by a large tree, and got off his back. Jaskier followed. I sat on the ground; the dog coming to sit next to me. “Where is he?”, I whispered. “We’ll find him”, Jaskier said, and put a hand on my shoulder – making the dog send him a menacing look. I sighed. “What was that story about Geralt being in Maribor two years ago?”, I asked. “I wasn’t here with him”, Jaskier said. “But I remember meeting him in Brugge not long after. He was especially broody – even for Geralt”.

Tears began welling into my eyes. “He was supposed to stay with me”, I whispered. The dog put its head in my lap. “If he is not here with you, it’s not by choice”, the bard muttered. “I have never seen him smile as much as since we met you in Skellige… It’s quite unnerving actually”. I chuckled through my tears. “Thank you, Jaskier”, I said. “You’re welcome, princess”, he smirked. “Now let’s find that bloody witcher”.

He stood up and gave me his hand. “Come along”, he said, and pulled me up from the ground. Once I was standing, I put my arms around his neck; and hugged him warmly – taking him by surprise. “You’re a good friend, bard”. “I… am honored to have the title”, he said. “But could you please let me go? If I smell too much of you when we find Geralt; he might castrate me”. I laughed into his shoulder.

I heard horses approaching. “The men at the gates said they went this way!”, a voice called. The dog growled. “Shh, boy”, I whispered, and scratched his ear. “Right!”. I heard the commander. “If any of you lot want a place under my watch in the future; you get me that woman!”. “Commander; how do you know she’s the one?”, another guard asked. “Did you not see her horse? The sword strapped to it?”, the first voice said. “O’Dimm made it clear they’d already had a run in with his own men. Must have taken it”. “Stop talking; and get me my prize!”, the Flaxon barked. “You heard the commander; spread out!”.

I scrambled to get on Bayrd; Jaskier behind me; and we sped off, into the woods.

---

We found ourselves in a clearing; both the dog and Bayrd panting heavily from the speed we had kept. I got of the stallion. “They’re… he’s working for O’Dimm…”, I panted. “Woo! That was a fast ride; pardon me”, Jaskier yelped. He turned around, and seemed to adjust himself. “There. That’s better”. He looked at me, and put his hands on his hips. “What now?”. I shook my head; my heart still beating through my chest. “I don’t know. I don’t…”.

The dog suddenly raised its head, and sniffed the air. “What’s wrong boy?”, I said. The dog began running into the trees; barking at something I couldn’t see. “Please don’t tell me we’re following the dog”, Jaskier pleaded. “We’re following the dog”, I said, grabbed my sword from Bayrd; and set of running. Jaskier was at my heels, muttering curses below his breath.

I heard the dog barking in the distance; and then another animal snarling. Running in the direction of the sound; we were met by a rock wall; which I clambered up, to see the scene below.

In the small basin there was a fight going on – if you could call it a fight. A large grey, wolf – standing on its hind legs – was circling and snarling at… Geralt! The witcher was holding his hands up in front of him; making signs in the air – which made what seem to be a strange form of magical shield around him. His sword was laying on the ground behind the wolf… the werewolf, I corrected myself. “I don’t want to do this”, I hear Geralt mutter. The werewolf snarled; and snapped at the witcher.

Suddenly the dog ran up to it; barking and jumping in the air. The wolf turned to face it; ears low and baring its teeth. Please, doggy. Just run away. The dog sniffed at the air; before jumping up and down again, and whimpering.

Geralt began scanning his surroundings and smelling the air. His face turned in my direction, and our eyes met. “Y/N! Get out of here!”, he yelled.

The werewolf turned in my direction, and let out a loud growl. “No!”, Geralt snarled. “You stay here!”. He jumped at the wolf; knocking it to the ground. The dog barked loudly at the scene, before sniffing the air, and running behind a boulder.

The werewolf and Geralt were wrestling on the ground; Geralts sword still to far away from him to reach. “Calm down!”, I head him growl at the beast. The wolf was gaining the upper hand.

I clambered down the rock side. Geralt was bleeding from a cut to his ribs; and my breath hitched, as the wolf lifted its enormous paw to strike at his face. Geralts face was contorted, and it seemed that the beast was too strong for him to push away. Above us, the sky was turning pink; readying itself for morning. The light that fell onto Geralt face showed me that he was almost spent, and I wondered how long he had been fighting the wolf. The beast bared its teeth again; getting ready to lunge at the witcher.

I lifted my sword. “Get off him”, I screamed, and sprang at the werewolf. Geralt looked at me; and held his hand out. “No! Stay back!”, he yelled. “I can do it!”, I growled. “I know you can”, he said. “But stay back!”.

“Mama!”, I heard a child’s voice behind me. I let my sword fall, and turned around. A little boy was standing with his arms around the dog’s neck; whimpering with tears. A teenaged girl was looking at me with angry eyes, holding a short knife in front of her. “Y/N, stay back!”, Geralt demanded.

The sun beginning to show itself over the rock side; I heard sounds, like a whimpering mixed with a growl. Over Geralt, the werewolf began to tremor. It lifted its large head to the sky and let out a howl, as if in pain. “Mama!”, the little boy screamed again. The girl took him in her arms, and the dog laid on the ground in front of them.

The wolf began cramping up above Geralt, and his face began to relax. Suddenly, it was like the fur on the monster’s body retracted into its skin, and its bones began moving – reshaping themselves. The muscle spasms and bones settled; and a naked woman fell in to Geralts arms; heaving for breath. The young girl ran over to the witcher and the woman, and covered her in a blanket. “Mother?”, she whimpered. “Get the bottle from my satchel”, Geralt muttered. The girl ran to Geralts satchel; grabbing a small flask; then returned to the pair on the ground.

Geralt held the bottle to the panting woman’s lips; and she drank its contents. “It’s over”, Geralt said. “It shouldn’t happen again”. “Ever?”, the girl whimpered. Geralt grunted. “If it does, you know what to do”. The girl nodded solemnly at him. Geralt gently laid the woman on the ground; covering her in the blanket. The girl put her mothers head in her lap, and stroked her cheek. The boy and the dog slowly approached the scene, joining the pair.

Geralt stood up with a groan, holding his hand to the wound on his side. He walked over to me. “What are you doing here?”, he asked. “I… you were gone”, I stammered; tears welling into my eyes. “I thought, maybe…”. His eyes narrowed. “You thought I’d left”. “I didn’t know what to think”, I whispered. “Guards came, and took us to the commander”. Geralts eyes became dark. “Flaxon”, he snarled. I nodded.

The little boy looked up. “Is he coming for us?”. He began crying. Geralt groaned and clenched his jaw; looking at me. “Were you followed?”, he asked. I opened my mouth to speak; but couldn’t. “Girl; we have to get your mother out of here. Now!”.

He whistled, and Roach appeared from behind a boulder. “Where is your horse?”, he asked me. “Bayrd!”, I called, and my stallion joined us; Jaskier following behind him. “Hello. Hi”, he smiled nervously at the children. “Geralt! Fancy seeing you here, seeing as you left us, high and dry, in a Maribor jail cell…”. Geralts expression angered, and he looked at me. “We’ll speak of this later”, he growled. I frowned. “Are you angry with me?”, I asked. “Later!”, he snarled. He went over to the woman, and picked her up; placing her on Bayrds back. “Can you hold her?”, he asked the girl. She nodded; and he lifted her, and placed her in the saddle behind her mother.

He grabbed the boy, and put him in Roachs saddle. “We head back to the city”, the witcher said. “They won’t expect it”. Jaskier smiled. “Uhm, Geralt”, he said. “Me and Zaba just escaped a prison cell, by knocking out three guards… I’m not sure we’ll be welcome”.

“Fuck!”, Geralt roared. “North, then”. “We’re taking them to Vizima?”, I said. “No, Jaskier is taking them to Vizima”, he said. “You and I are going east. We’ll have to take the long way around; lead the commander of their tracks”. “Jaskier can’t protect them”, I whispered. The bard gasped. “Hey! I can hear you; you know!”.

Geralt looked at the teenaged girl. “No, but she can”, he said. He took the boy off Roach, placing him on the ground; still looking at the girl. “You stay on the smaller roads; Jaskier knows them”, he said. “Avoid cities; make camp only when necessary, and near smaller villages; so you won’t be attacked by animals or beasts without back up – and don’t let the bard sing”. “Still, I can hear you!”, Jaskier said.

The witcher turned to face his friend. “We will see you in Vizima”, he said quietly. “Be careful”. Jaskier smiled. “You care…”, he said. Geralt grunted; and turned his back to him. “We need to move”, he said to me.

I walked up to the dog. “I guess we found your place”, I smiled. “His name is Roro”, the little boy smiled. “Because that’s the sound he makes”. “That’s a good name”, I nodded. “The guards took him from us…”, the girl said. “When they killed my father”. My heart dropped. “I’m sorry”, I said. The girl nodded at me; her eyes warming up.

I stepped up to Bayrd; grabbing his muzzle. “Take care of them, boy”. I kissed the horse; and patted its neck; before turning around to join Geralt – tears running from my eyes. He grabbed my hand, and squeezed it quickly; before helping me saddle up on his mare. He then walked over to my stallion; patted his neck lovingly, and whispered something in his ear.

Saddling up behind me; he squeezed my hand again. “He’s a good horse. You’ll see him again”, he said. “Jaskier. By the way; why do you smell like Y/N so much?”. The bard laughed nervously.

With a final nod at the family, and a smile at Jaskier, we were off.

---

We rode in the direction Jaskier and I had been coming; trying to catch the eye of the guards from Maribor. “Do they know who you are?”, Geralt said behind me. “I think so”, I muttered. He let out an enraged growl. “I’m sorry”, I said quietly. He grunted; his body rigid with anger. “They’ll follow our tracks. We just need to give them a short look at us”, he said. “I won’t let them have you”.

We reached the top of a hill, which gave us a view of the fields below. In the distance I saw horses approaching. “Not yet”, Geralt muttered. My heart was pounding; and I was breathing hard in fear. “Geralt…”, I said. “Not. Yet”.

The riders came closer, having noticed us on the hill. There were at least 20 of them that I could count. “Please…”, I breathed. Geralt put his arm around me; holding me to his chest; so I could follow his calm breathing. “Almost…”.

I could make out the mustachioed man in the front. Flaxon. Next to him rode another man; dressed in black armor; with a haughty expression on his face. O’Dimm! I recognized him from the feast in Kaer Trolde – before I’d left Skellige. “Geralt”, I whimpered; grabbing at his arm. The witcher grunted. “Now!”.

He kicked at Roach; and we fled down the hill – away from O’Dimm and the riders. We rode faster than I had ever ridden. I clambered to hold on to the mare’s mane; squeezing my thighs hard to not fall off. “I’ve got you”, Geralt said. “I won’t let you fall”.

We continued into the woods; the riders still following us. Geralt seemed to sniff the air; and suddenly led Roach south; meaning the riders would be flanking us within a short time. “Geralt! Where are you taking us?”, I yelped. “To get help”, he answered simply.

Finding ourselves in front of a rocky mound with an entrance into a cave; Geralt halted. I saw a large shadow emerging from the cave; snarling at us. “It’s done!”, Geralt called. The creature stopped in its tracks. “She’s cured”. “The girl?”, the creature growled – surprising me with its ability to speak. “You know I cannot cure a born were”, Geralt snarled. “It will be up to her if she wants to return”. The creature grunted. “Who is that with you?”, it asked. Geralt held on to me a bit tighter. “Foltest’s new queen”, he said. “We need safe passage”.

The creature stepped into the light. In front of us; now stood a large werewolf; twice the size of what the woman had been. Stepping forward behind it were about a dozen more like it; all slightly smaller, but no less terrifying.

The alpha snarled and bared its teeth. “And why should we give safe passage to a queen of a land that has exiled us?”, it growled. “Tell me witcher… my children are getting hungry from just the smell of her”.

---

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