#ic. Lara Dorren

[elderbloodcarrier]

Cover your ears. Keep your head down. Don't stay in one place for too long.

It had practically become a part of Lara's life for these last centuries. However, just as she was getting ready to leave the inn, the wonderful sound of music caught her attention. She was drawn in, seeing the bard sing his song.

Once it was over, she couldn't help but make her way over, careful not to reveal her elven nature. "You have been blessed by the muses. That much is obvious!"

@stellanimarum liked for a starter (for Jaskier!)

[starwrittenfates-a]

@caelmewedd liked for a starter (for Avallac'h)

Riannon had been warmly welcomed to the kingdom of the Aen Elle elves. At last Lara could finally calm down and focus on other matters, like her upcoming wedding to Avallac'h. She had woken early in the morning, enjoying the peace and quiet as Riannon slept in her cradle. Spending this time to think, the princess also enjoyed the sunrise. Cerro was down the halls of the palace, away in her own room. Of course Lara was going to make her best friend her maid of honor and help her pick out a dress.

Feeling like her stomach had butterflies dancing around inside, the mother glanced to her child, noticing green eyes peering back at her. Riannon had awaken. And then there was a knock at the door. Lara gently lifted her up into her arms before going to answer it. "Ah, Crevan. Good morning! Did you sleep well?"

[helreginn]

starwrittenfates asked:

❛  are you always this straightforward with strangers ?  ❜

"Well you have to understand. I am cursed to be misbelieved so it really does not matter if I am overly honest." Was that an example or a lie? Hard to tell. She didn't seem apprehensive or bitter. Just.. matter-of-fact. "Why?" she asked, smiling innocently at Lara, "Did I give too much away?"

[limerental]

sacrifice

a post-tw3, pre-tw4 witcher ciri origins fic with healthy hints of avallac'h/ciri

Several years after disappearing through a portal to the heart of the White Frost, Avallac'h finds Ciri on the brink of death and must choose to act to save her.

He discovers her body in the grey wash of a downpour, the rain pooling on tiled stone in the courtyard, lightning cracking above the shadow of the old keep that clings to the mountains.

The rain does not touch him as he strides ahead, his footsteps loud in the puddled water, and when he reaches her and stoops, the rain leaps away from her body as well. Not enough to dry her but enough that when he turns her to her back, the pelting raindrops do not sting her pale, familiar face.

It’s her. Of course it is. It could be no other.

She’s been outside the Spiral for years, alive or dead, unreachable even by his probing magic, and then as suddenly as she’d vanished as she stepped boldly into the portal, he had felt her exist again. Like a breath long-held, her resurfacing is a painful sort of relief.

To see her body, to confirm what he’s feared, is anything but.

The soot darkening her eye sockets has run down her cheeks, black tears interrupted on the left by the grooves of scar tissue. He had watched her apply it that morning on Undvik, tallow and soot, ignoring his offer of more sophisticated cosmetics. She wanted to make an impression, gruesome and wraith-like and deadly.

She had, but he hadn’t told her so. He’d told her such foolish theater was unnecessary. Pitted against Eredin and against more substantial threats, intimidation alone would not suffice for her survival. Wild-eyed and furious, she had never looked more like Lara.

She resembles her now in another sense, cold as a marble statue.

He touches his gloved hand to her chin, parts her lips to lean close enough to feel puffs of breath against his ear. Her heart rate is ponderously slow, her skin like ice. If the rain had not melted it before he arrived, her body would have been limned in frost.

Why here?, he does not need to ask, the thin windows of the vacant Witcher keep seeming to squint to watch the events in the courtyard below. Kaer Morhen is unchanged since he last was here, the marks of Eredin’s assault left unrepaired. The remaining Wolves have not returned since, leaving the place to go fallow.

Instinct has dropped her here– a place she once felt safe. Or, he reminds himself, there’s the more grim possibility that she has come here to bury herself among Witchers, to let the elements weather her bones to the same scattered rest as the others here.

There was a time he may have carried her from this place against her wishes, lay her somewhere more worthy, spent an age carving a grave marker, but all that marble in memoriam and even the Aen Seidhe have forgotten Lara Dorren’s sacrifice. And Cirilla is not her, never has been, falls short of her, exceeds her.

Avallac’h will grant her the end she wishes. Turn aside and forget.

Cart before the horse, he thinks, as her eyes move behind the lids. There’s a sound from the back of her throat, and she wakes, or the approximation of waking, weak gaze tracking across the bruised sky.

“Zireael,” he whispers, and her brow furrows. She looks without seeing him. Her lips are blue, and sighs of fogged breath rise from them. It’s some time before she seems to recognize him.

“I closed the doors,” she manages, her voice a ruin.

“I know,” says Avallac’h.

He had guessed as much after the chill ceased its spread, and though he slipped through dozens of worlds, he found no new sign of the White Frost. No sign of her either nor any indication that she lived. It’s been years of wandering since then.

“Of course you know,” she sighs. “You know most everything.”

She’s teasing him with her last breath, the absolute child. He wants to shake her by the shoulders, reprimand her, force her to be serious. There’s nothing to be done to save her. He does not have to whisper a diagnostic spell to know that she’s burnt herself close to nothing, sapped every ounce of Source energy that holds her atomic structure together.

She must see it on his face.

“This it, then?” she asks. “It's just as well. No Witcher ever died in his bed, they say.”

Her eyes close, like maybe she can hasten the end. Declare those last, trite words and leave him gripping a corpse. He had waited too long to sit at Lara's side, the humans having discovered her body first, taken the babe, and not lingered over her burial.

His pride had blinded him. He had thought let her know what her choice has wrought. The cold she has doomed the world to. A petty, shameful desire. She had died alone, but he was left to live in chilled loneliness and regret. If he had only stepped in sooner, forbid her from visiting Cregnannan, made demands, done one thing differently, then maybe–

In the years since she vanished, he's doubted the choice to let Zireael go to her death, rather than giving in and letting the Frost consume it all. Why shouldn’t every world end the way his did?

The girl in his arms still breathes, though her lungs sound full of water.

There’s nothing to be done now, except perhaps–

Somewhere beneath this crumbling fortress lies a series of chambers, long locked away and dusty with disuse. There’s a cobwebbed laboratory still equipped with forgotten instruments and mutagenic substances. It’s primitive and ugly and beneath him, but if by some chance, he could find what he needed there, then there may still be a small hope for the girl. WIth her genetic material close to unraveling, further mutation may just stabilize her.

Why did you come here, Zireael? Avallac’h does not ask. To hide somewhere safe or to die in peace, it does not matter. Something has led her here, and by proxy, it’s led him. Perhaps Fate has intervened yet again.

“There is something we can try. Given where we are,” he says, rousing the girl with a touch to her cheek. She blinks into the rain, seeming to finally notice where she lies, the silhouette of the keep’s towers lit by streaks of lightning. “It may kill you either way. They say it killed three in ten.”

Even sluggish on the brink of death, Cirilla’s quick mind catches on his meaning.

“You aim to…”

“Give you what you want, yes. What you begged for as a child.”

She’s not one any longer, he knows. She hasn’t been for a long while.

“I don’t want that anymore,” she says weakly. “I just wanted it all to mean something.”

“Would you rather I allow you to die?” He feels he must offer her the choice. If she nods her head, he may deny her anyway.

She turns her face against his arm as though to shield herself from rain that does not touch her. He wants to press his fingers back through her damp hair but doesn’t.

“Fine,” she says. He’s not sure that she knows what she’s agreeing to.

She groans as he lifts her in his arms. It’s a marvel how light she is, how someone who has weighed on his mind so heavily could feel like nothing.

Of course, Avallac’h does not know the recipe or the process. What use could he have for some dh'oine mage's monstrous formulae? If he did, he’d find a more elegant means of mutation. He doesn’t have the time.

Places hold memory the same as the mind does, and he follows the impressions of Kaer Morhen's grisly past deep into the bowels of its laboratory.

As he lays her on a stone plinth and binds her arms and legs with metal cuffs, he thinks of ancient, ritual sacrifices. How she had taken a deep breath, terrified, and turned toward the swirling portal that would take her to the heart of the Frost.

He leans to kiss her hair and knows she may hate him afterward. More than she already does.

And when she next wakes with a sudden gasp, for better or for worse, Cirilla no longer looks at him with Lara's eyes.

[thirstyforred]

First Lines

just got tagged by @tumbleweedtech , ty <3, to do this lil thing, so let's go!

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns!

O fanach robali (About fans of bugs) - Gwent | Savolla x Sandor de Baccalá Wszyscy zawsze wiedzieli że jak latem stary Wiley ogłasza arenę zamkniętą na weekend to lepiej się tam nie kręcić w ogóle, nieważne co. (Everyone has always known that when old Wiley announces an arena closed for the weekend in the summer, it's better not to hang around there at all, no matter what.)

Prince Troyden and Praetor - Witcher TTRPG | Troyden x OC “Stay the night,” said Prince Troyden.

2 horny adults at work, shenanigans happen - Witcher | Huebrt Rejk x fem!Jacques de Aldersberg Hubert Rejk sighed once again.

unruly sacrifice - Witcher, Gwent | Morrigan & Svalblod It wasn’t entirely uncommon for Morrigan’s followers to send her dead beings as offerings.

Shard of Glass - Witcher | Winter Queen/Gaunter O'Dimm Truth is but a shard of ice.

feverish Roderick &/x Albrecht - Witcher | Roderick de Wett x OC Looking at Roderick, actually looking at him, without the veil of pretenses, Albrecht can see why he’s like that.

💕🐛 The Bug Lover 🐛💕 - Witcher | Alzur x Viy Alzur was always, rather tragically, the type of man who would rather die than admit to being wrong.

two wrongs do (not) make right - Witcher TTRPG | Erland of Larvik x Arnaghad It’s an old map, one of those that shouldn't be accurate anymore.

Oh, I really wish I was scared to (die) - Witcher | Lara Dorren x Kaedwen Clark Lara walks through the throne room, an intricate mosaic pattern underneath her feet.

Wild Hungover - Witcher, Cyberpunk 2077 Consider this - You’re sitting by the table, in front of you are M-10AF Lexington with a full clip, a bunch of poppers, DVOM, and a mass of other shit.

looking at this now, ig im leaning towards shorter opening, unless i want to be weird on purpose lol

[firewvlk]

wanted connections.

amicia de rune (a plague tale):

béatrice de rune

lucas

mélie

rodric

arnaud malpart 

sophia

atreus (god of war):

kratos

laufey

brok

sindri

mimir

freya

thrúd

skjöldr 

ava silva (warrior nun):

sister camila

shotgun mary

mother superion

michael salvius

sister lilith

cal kestis (star wars):

second sister/trilla suduri

cere junda

greez dritus

cara mason (legend of the seeker):

richard cypher/rahl

zeddicus zu'l zorander 

ciri (the witcher):

pavetta

cerys an craite

hjalmar an craite

cahir 

vesemir 

lambert 

eskel 

coën 

avallac'h

lara dorren 

daisy johnson (agents of shield/marvel):

phil coulson

lincoln campbell 

melinda may 

alphonso mackenzie

bobbi morse 

harley quinn (dc/injustice):

oliver queen

dinah lance

hunter (midnight suns/marvel):

agatha harkness

lilith

eric brooks

nico minoru 

steve rogers

deadpool

jaina solo (star wars):

anakin solo

zekk

luke skywalker

jagged fel 

kyp durron

mara jade

john b (outer banks):

big john

pope heyward

cleo

josh washington (until dawn):

hannah washington

beth washington

chris hartley

mike munroe

the judge (far cry 5/new dawn):

joseph seed

faith seed

john seed

jacob seed

carmina rye 

nick rye

joey hudson

sharky boshaw

staci pratt

mary may fairgrave 

laurie strode (halloween):

judith myers

karen nelson

frank hawkins 

marceline (adventure time):

ice king/simon petrikov

finn

jake

rachel amber (life is strange):

chloe price

max caulfield

steph gingrich 

nathan prescott

justin williams 

evan harris

victoria chase

sera gearhardt 

selene (underworld):

eve corvin

david

lena

shaggy rogers (scooby-doo):

maggie rogers

velma dinkley

steve harrington (stranger things):

tommy hagan

erica sinclair 

lucas sinclair

zack fair (final fantasy vii):

angeal hewley

sephiroth

cloud strife

aerith gainsborough

cissnei

yuffie kisaragi

tifa lockhart

tseng 

[paramounticebound]

"Have you ever been a prisoner here?" he asked lowly, finally rising from his pretend-throne to approach her, to glide to her like a wraith on the path of the hunt, ravenous and emaciated. Of everything that had fallen from her lips like shed petals, those were the words that cut, a blade straight to his throat. He stood above her, blue gaze like an ice storm, trembling, trembling.

"I do not mean to stop you," he lied, "I only wish to understand. You are neither powerless because you are a woman nor without merit, as you say, but because the White Flame is impartial to the suffering of the Continent. I have heard his favored view of the Elder Races-- and I know it is a deception."

So it went, on and on again, that humans would make peace with the Aen Seidhe, only to thrust a dagger as soon as backs were turned.

Thrumming in his chest, the war drums of his heart threaten to give him away. The scandal that would erupt in his court if the wrong eyes peered, even at this moment with his wild words and wilder eyes, it would decimate an already fragile existence. As Lara Dorren and Cregenan of Lod had suffered, star-crossed and doomed, so would they. Khan would rather rot in a Nilfgaardian dungeon for the remainer of his centuries-- anything, if it meant keeping Fox safe. Keeping her alive.

How reckless of him, then, to take her hands in his own, far more tender than the bite of his words.

Stay.

"In another life, I would steal you away to Tir ná Lia," nearly a whisper, lest overheard; perhaps more for himself than any else, the only tongue that recalled the ancient places, "And forgo this world entirely." Perhaps one day, he'd take her to meet the unicorns, if they were not already observing the chaos that had erupted from the Conjunction of the Spheres.

"At least tell me of your plan," audible this time, and while still holding steady to a semblance of something-- forbidden and powerful enough to topple nations-- he retained a possessive sort of wounded anger.

paramounticebound​:

The pain comes in waves, like the swell of an ocean that threatens to continually drown him, to eternally chain him to this wretched moment of immortality. This pain, these waves are broken by the splinters of compassion that remain within him and by the presence of the only human he’d ever been able to tolerate. Each wolf-mouth full of ire had been accepted until his abuse lessened—he’d found her different, flowers blossoming beneath the ice.

Khan’s silence is heavy and laden with guilt and anger and every violent wish he’d collected for humanity, save for her, infuriated that the workings of the Continent continued to rupture his own portion of the world.

     “Maen saov, they will tear you apart,” a hiss more relevant to serpents than to elves, leaning back against his makeshift throne in his makeshift court, regarding her with a look to erode mountains. Any apathy that had rested within his words flitted away and he missed it instantly—how unkingly, he thought, bestowing his emotions like rags for the air to take. While true that his people had been unkind, he had not hesitated to reproach any act of disdain toward her, intending for his acceptance to aid in the swaying of opinion.

Yet, when the notion of a human invading the last safe haven arose, how could he have blamed them?

–That isn’t it, he knows, watching her move, listening to her speak. 

     “What power could you possibly have in the court of the White Flame? Ywneud te eisit'h te'l stráede deireádh aen ichaer?” Ire still misplaced, yet molten on his tongue, “Your disservice is assuming that you can enter my court and then simply– leave.”

      His words cut deeper than she cared to admit. It was obvious now, he was her weakness. He could wound with mere words now in a way he’d been unable to when first they met. Somewhere between the long nights and far too short days his opinion, his thoughts of her, had become something that she wanted, craved even. Fox tried for those none too often smiles, like rays of sunshine after a season of storms, and found her heart filled when they came upon her. Up until that point, every King, elven or man, had only been another person lucky enough to be born under the crown. He changed her mind. He embodied what it was to be a King, even if at times, he was the King of Nothing, the Dead End King.

      “I did pretty well for myself here,” she raised her chin in mock defiance. “If the roles were reversed, I’m sure the Court of the White Flame would say the same of you.” He did tear her apart though. Shred by shred, piece by piece, until she left everything she was to him. If she left, a majority her would stay behind. Here, near to him.

      “Power? Do you say this because I am a woman or because you think me without merit?” She swallowed, pushing down the lump that had grown in her throat. “Men are not as complicated as they like think they are, their power is an illusion. It will do nothing to keep their throats from being slit if need be.” The willingness to do what must be done was the only power that mattered to her when it came to people like that. To people who played war from the high hills on horseback or from the safety of their throne rooms.

      Her heart faltered. “You mean to stop me? To keep me here? Am I to be your prisoner, because I dare to do as I wish, that wretched human trait?” She paused, trying to master her breathing, her emotions. “I am not of your people, as they are so kind as to remind me given the chance. Staying here only does harm to you, I cannot help. I feel myself standing still, watching the world turn, watching as more and more people die. You may be right, I may be torn apart, but is it not enough to try?” 

[numinousdread-a]

          𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 emerged from the brush, the leaves sighing and reaching forth for the elf’s touch as if yearning to be spun into the magic weaving around her. She glowed in her own right from it, seen only by the keen eyes of other elves and a would-be powerful human sorcerer. Her eyes fluttered from the bundle of herbs in her hand to the sudden appearance of a figure before her, robed in a cloak red as rubies. She hesitated a moment, caution in her green eyes and furrowed brow, before surmising he was no immediate threat.  “  -- You startled me, stranger ! You must be lost to come this far from the road to Redania . . .  ”

@esoteriks​​ was summoned !

[dukeofdogs]

Queen Calanthe

Chest 1: As history tells us, Calanthe was the last to ever reign as Queen of Cintra. During the First Nilfgaardian War, Emhyr var Emreis moved to assimilate the neighboring kingdom into his empire. The Lioness of Cintra, as she was fondly known, defended her ancestral home with great ferocity – enduring grave wounds herself. Yet, sensing the castle's imminent ruin, she ordered her courtiers to deliver her a knife with which she could take her own life. None dared comply and play part in their queen's demise. Alas, their defiance was in vain, for Calanthe then simply threw herself from the tower's highest window.

Chest 2: Sadly, the queen's body was never found—likely trampled beyond recognition into blood-soaked mud by Nilfgaardian heavy infantry. Following the war, two glorious monuments were erected in her honor: one in Skellige, where she was symbolically laid to rest beside her beloved husband, and the other beneath the Cintra Castle by the request of Emhyr var Emreis, her conqueror. It seems—for reasons likely known only to him—the Nilfgaardian emperor felt bitter remorse over the queen's death...

Chest 3: Calanthe's veins carried the blood of an ancient Aen Elle line—that of Lara Dorren, one of the Aen Saevherne, or elven sages as they are commonly known. Though the Lioness of Cintra didn't inherit the magical talents of the elder blood, such an affinity did reveal itself in her daughter, Pavetta, and thereafter in her granddaughter, Cirilla. Yet given Calanthe's infamous temper, perhaps such a fate was for the best. To think what she would have been capable of had she been versed in the arcane magical arts...

Scroll 1: Calanthe—or Calanthe Fiona Riannon, to be precise—was oft referred to under two monikers. Throughout the Continent she was known as the "Lioness of Cintra," and on the Skellige Isles as "Ard Rhena"—that is, the "High Queen." Both names fit her better than even the finest pair of silken gloves.

Scroll 2: Calanthe proved as valiant as she was stern. At the mere sight of her, boisterous warriors would fall utterly silent, and even the most vainglorious counts stooped low in bow. Few dared to act against her will, and fewer still would repeat their mistake.

Scroll 3: Calanthe had always wished to rule on her own, hence her longtime aversion toward marriage. Yet when she finally decided to wed, the well of eager suitors had run dry. With eyes like green ice, her fearsome gaze did little to melt the hearts of young princes...

Scroll 4: In the end, Calanthe walked down the aisle on two occasions. Her first husband, Roegner de Salm, gave her an heiress; the second, Eist Tuirseach — true love. It could have made for a beautiful tale... If not for its bitter end.

[elderbloodcarrier]

@caelmewedd continued from X

After wishing Riannon goodnight, Cerro was taken to her room and turned to address the sage. "No, I will be alright. Thank you for such wonderful hospitality!" And with that, she wished him and her best friend a good night.

Back at the party Lara watched the sea of Aen Elle, happy to be back home. Her eyes would every so often glance over to Ge'els, making sure he was okay. Her father seemed to be having the time of his life, the complete opposite of his viceroy.

[elderbloodcarrier]

Lara felt her heart skip a beat from fear at the mention of her name being part of history. She was hoping he hadn’t caught onto her, and she appeared to still be safe…for now.

Listening to him speak of himself, she smiled, moved by his view of the world and life itself. She remembered being so optimistic once. His next question took her off guard, making Lara pause, and frown a little, as if deep in thought but also stumped at the answer to it. In another world and age (or so it seemed), Lara thought she knew the answer so easily. After all, her life was predestined for her before birth. Her only role and expectations in the endless wheel of fate was to give birth to a special child and save all the elves…but then, at some point, she began to question it all, which only led to disaster, as one could not defy fate.

But now, after all her experiences and tragedies, what moved Lara? Where was she being guided? It was a great question, but one she didn’t know the answer to. She hadn’t even visited her home — the world of the Aen Elle — or seen her people…her own father in centuries. “I’m…not sure, Jaskier. All I know is I’m not the same person I was anymore. I’ve changed, but I don’t know if it’s for the better or worse. I’m hoping to find the answer to that question someday, and then maybe, I’ll find my way back home…if that’s where I’m supposed to end up.” She let out a slight sigh, glancing up at him. “What do you think happens if one tries to defy fate and destiny?”

elderbloodcarrier​:

She couldn’t very well give out her full name. After all, she had been hearing the stories being spoken about her by both elves and humans alike. Although both sides were never really quite accurate…

“I’m Lara…” she said, clearing her throat after. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jaskier. So, where do we expect the muses to be taking you next? With everything going on out in the world, it’s always nice to come across a bard inspiring hope in the hearts of people.”

Curious to know if he had heard the stories about her, Lara didn’t doubt it being possible. It was another reason she tended to lay low, at least on both sides. Lara Dorren aep Shiadhal was either an evil witch to some or a tragic victim to others…but most thought she had died without realizing she was still walking among them, very much alive.

"Lara," Jaskier repeated, testing the name on his lips. "A beautiful name of history."

He chuckled softly, his blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. "As for the muses, well, they're a fickle bunch, but I believe they have some grand plans in store for me. I travel wherever the winds of inspiration blow, seeking stories to tell and songs to sing."

Jaskier tilted his head slightly, studying Lara's face with a keen interest. "And what about you, Lara? What moves you? Where are you being guided?” 

[starwrittenfates-a]

Avallac'h woke up when he felt a small hand pulling at the blanket, when he opened his eyes he saw the weeping face of his little daughter Riannon, whom he immediately, instinctively took to the bed between him and Lara and hugged her tightly to his chest. His poor little butterfly must have had a bad dream.

"Shh…Riannon, shh…I'm here." Avallac'h whispered after which he gently poked Lara, who was sleeping next to him. "Don't cry, my little butterfly. Your mother and I are here for you."

Lara started to shift away, one green eye poking open hearing his voice speak. Once realizing Avallac'h was holding their daughter and Riannon was weeping, she jolted up, frantically looking her over. "What's wrong with our little Butterfly?"

She couldn't believe she had almost slept through Riannon's crying. Luckily the sage was there to notice and go after their little one. "Is she okay Crevan?"

[bloededhoine]

world building cause twn doesn't part 12: the hen ichaer

i realize i've been mentioning the hen ichaer without really explaining it, and for that i apologize. but without further ado, let's go

colour code cause i fucking love colour codes - already happened/introduced, probably s2, important background info, stuff that might be in the prequel, extras

series masterpost

general

the hen ichaer is basically a magical gene that originated with the elven sorceress, scholar, and princess, lara dorren aep shiadhal

it can lie dormant or inactive for generations, but when someone is an activated carrier of the gene, they are called a source

sources have an insane capability for magic, it's so intense that without instruction they are a huge danger to themselves and/or others. remember pavetta's betrothal feast? hurricanes should not happen indoors

same thing with ciri's sonic scream.

obviously, the hen ichaer is highly weaponize-able, but it's difficult to put this into theory since the magic is so strong that it can easily kill the person who carries it

most important is that the hen ichaer can open ard gaeth, the gates between worlds. you may remember that the witcher is a multiverse, and the continent is just one of countless worlds

aen elle

the aen elle, elves who live in another world called tir ná lia, controlled at least one gate that they used to get slaves from other worlds

however, this was before the hen ichaer was seriously studied. unicorns are also capable of opening ard gaeth, and were present in tir ná lia, so the aen elle would kidnap them to be used as their world-hopping-genocide key. yeah, the aen elle are seriously fucked

the king of the aen elle was named auberon muircetach, and he was very well known for his wars with the unicorns, who weren't too keen on being enslaved for the purpose of conquering other worlds

the hen ichaer came into play when auberon noticed that his daughter, lara dorren, had pretty intense magical abilities. like, ard gaeth opening abilities.

auberon, lara, and a few other elves began studying the gene and trying to figure out how it works and how to use it.

through this study is how we got the title aen saevherne, which is used to distinguish an elven mage with extensive knowledge of history, science, magic, and, most importantly, the elder blood.

both lara and auberon were aen saevherne, as was lara's husband-to-be, avallac'h, and avallac'h's foster son, caranthir ar-feiniel

ithlinne's prophecy

ithlinne aegli aep aevenien was an elven prophet known for her incredibly dark prophecies that she delivered at totally random times. how dark were they? ithlinne's prophecies were almost exclusively about the death of all humanity and/or the end of the world. she was fun at parties.

anyway, when we talk about ithlinne we really only mean one specific prophecy, aen ithlinnespeath. to be confusing it's usually referred to as ithlinne's prophecy

here's the prophecy itself:

Verily I say unto you, the era of the sword and axe is nigh, the era of the wolf's blizzard. The Time of the White Chill and the White Light is nigh, the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deireádh, the Time of End. The world will die amidst frost and be reborn with the new sun. It will be reborn of Elder Blood, of Hen Ichaer, of the seed that has been sown. A seed which will not sprout but burst into flame. Ess'tuath esse! Thus it shall be! Watch for the signs! What signs these shall be, I say unto you: first the earth will flow with the blood of Aen Seidhe, the Blood of Elves...

what does that mean? well, the white chill (aka the white frost) is a massive ice age that has been approaching the continent for years. don't believe me? the white frost has destroyed countless worlds in the past, and it literally cannot be stopped. the only way to save the world is by the power of the hen ichaer.

here's a perfectly frightening visual of the white frost

ithlinne didn't elaborate on the how, but we now know that the only to survive the white frost is by finding a new world and massively evacuating the continent through ard gaeth, which can only be opened by the power of the hen ichaer.

genetics

clearly, the hen ichaer is important enough to literally save, or end, the world, but the aen elle did a famously terrible job of studying it. like, you'd think they'd be good at that, but no. to their credit, it is a bit complicated

first, there are multiple types of elder blood genes, the main gene, the latent gene, and the activator gene. to actually show the powers of the hen ichaer, someone would need to either have one latent and one activator, or the main gene.

let's go back to secondary school biology for a second, remember punnet squares? these fuckers

the letters in a punnet square represent a genotype, or the two alleles that are inherited from the parents. phenotypes, on the other hand, are what you see on the outside. for example, a genotype would be Aa but a phenotype would be brown eyes.

while the main gene is a simple dominant allele (shown by a capital letter on a punnet square), both the latent and activator genes are semi-dominant, meaning that when they meet they create a new phenotype: the innate magical ability that makes you a source.

it gets a little less scientific here so bear with me; this new phenotype is so powerful that it sometimes creates a whole new genotype. so instead of having one activator gene and one latent gene, the two would merge and you'd be left with only one (very powerful) main gene. this is the only single gene that actually has magic and it's a dominant gene, so you only need to have one to have the power.

but, the latent and activator genes don't always combine. you still have the full powers when they stay separate, but it is then less likely to pass the hen ichaer your children.

complicated? very much so. but in practice it's a lot easier.

for simplicity's sake i'll call the activator gene g/a, latent gene g/L, main gene g/m and a regular nonmutated gene g/r. to be a source, the genes you inherit would be g/a g/L, but they may combine to be just g/m. your average person would be g/r g/r and a carrier would be either g/a g/r or g/L g/r.

clearly, this makes tracking it pretty messy, since generations of people can be carriers without having a single source

tracking the hen ichaer

for now, let's do what those elven sages couldn't and track then hen ichaer, starting with lara dorren

eventually, lara met an exceptionally talented human mage, cregennan of lod, and they were lab partners (oh my god they were lab partners) in the study of the hen ichaer.

eventually, lara met an exceptionally talented human mage, cregennan of lod, and they were lab partners (oh my god they were lab partners) in the study of the hen ichaer.

for all the studying, lara and cregennan's own genes have always been something of a mystery. elven mages don't tend to have any issues with using themselves as lab rats, so it's entirely possible that lara and cregennan, knowingly or not, mutated their own genes in their research.

ultimately, it doesn't matter what lara and cregennan's genes originally were. by some happy little accident, the two eventually ended up with at least one activator gene and at least one latent gene between them.

later, when lara and cregennan made their own happy little accident, riannon, she inherited one of each gene (g/a g/L), making her a source. however, riannon's genes did not combine as the elves expected, which made her a little harder to study.

riannon eventually met king goidemar of temeria (g/r g/r), and they had two children named fiona and amavet. i'll start with fiona, who the aen elle managed to figure out had the latent gene, making her g/L r

fiona ended up having a baby with king coram II of cintra (g/r g/r), they named him corbett, and he inherited fiona's g/L and one of coram's g/r.

the aen elle lost track of the hen ichaer when they studied riannon's other kid amavet. see, amavet was kind of a whore. he had twins, muriel and crispin, with the married countess anna kameny. obviously, these children weren't legitimate, and when the angry count kameny murdered amavet a few months later, he was officially childless

the elves did, however, manage to figure out that amavet had riannon's g/a gene and goidemar's g/r gene. anna kameny was just g/r g/r, and crispin ended up being g/r g/r as well. destiny does favour the hen ichaer, but sometimes it's just not meant to be. muriel, on the other hand, did inherit her father's activator gene and was g/a g/r.

let's hop back to corbett, fiona and coram's g/L g/r son. he and princess elen of kaedwen (g/r g/r) had a son, dagorad, who got corbett's latent gene and one of elen's regular ones, meaning he was g/L g/r

muriel married robert of garramore (g/r g/r), and their daughter adalia, the dramatically posed lady right there, had the same genetic combination as her mother, g/a g/r

this is where it gets even weirder

the lovely adalia married dagorad. her second cousin. they shared riannon as their great grandmother. feel better in the fact that it was not intentional, adalia's mother, muriel, was not officially riannon's granddaughter. no one would have even known, but adalia's g/a met up with dagorad's g/L in their daughter, calanthe

for the first time since riannon, the hen ichaer was back, and calanthe's parents genes combined to give her g/m g/r

while it took generations of destiny and accidental incest to make the hen ichaer happen again, now that calanthe had the main gene there was a 50% chance she would pass it to her child, which, of course, she did

calanthe and her husband roegner (g/r g/r) had pavetta, who inherited the g/m from her mother. no one knew about this until pavetta literally created a source hurricane, and was already pregnant

pavetta and duny's (g/r g/r) daughter, ciri, inherited the main gene from her mother and was a source.

sources

it's important to note that a source is not necessarily an incredibly powerful sorcerer, merely a person who has the genetic predisposition required to channel very intense magic

sources, like anyone else, can be bad students, allergic to potions, or just generally averse to magic on all levels except heredity. there is also no way to guarantee that even the most willing source will be good at using magic, in fact it's far more common that they will be really really bad at it. sources are extra susceptible to the chaotic state of magic in the world, and many end up pretty seriously harmed by it.

magical talent tends to make itself known in very emotional situations, like the death of a parent or a war. the same applies for sources, but they have an extra rule: their full powers are off limits until they lose their virginities

now, netflix has not mentioned that rule to be true or false, but i'm going to think of it as strictly book/game/etc canon, because ciri is 10 years old when netflix shows her using her source powers for the first time

the virginity rule makes things even more complicated, as customs about premarital sex are pretty strict in the witcher world (well, among nobility), and the dudes didn't seem to have fast reflexes. what i'm saying is that getting pregnant the first time you had sex was not uncommon. sources couldn't even use, and likely weren't aware of, their powers until they were already passing them on to another generation.

and even still, there is no guarantee that someone who is a source will ever actually show their powers. calanthe had the genetics, but she wasn't a mage. what happened? we don't really know. after calanthe married, cintra was pretty peaceful; there were no invasions or massive upheavals that could put enough stress on her to show her powers. plus, her parents didn't know she had any magical powers, so they didn't give her the training that would develop them, and she was a very level headed person who would likely be unaffected by many of the things that would make another source lose their shit.

[elderbloodcarrier]

@caelmewedd continued from X

Her thoughts were only confirmed, watching as Avallac’h granted their daughter’s wish, giving the spoiled child some more sweets, letting her have some whipped cream. Although she gave her sage a stern look, Lara couldn’t help but laugh, finding the situation endearing. It was nice to know that Riannon would be dotted on no matter what. “The last thing I would want is our little butterfly getting sick on her big day...” Lara said, kissing her daughter’s forehead. 

Once Riannon was done, she turned her attention back to her mother, resting up against her chest as Lara held her in her arms. Now content, her eyes started to drift closed. 

“I do think everyone will love it as much as we do.” Spotting their sleepy daughter, Lara knew it was Riannon’s time for a nap. “Aww...looks like someone is happy with the treats they got. I’ll put her down for her nap. It’s best if she rests before the party anyway.” 

Lara knew that once things came around and the announcement was made of Riannon, all of Tir na Lia would personally want to meet the little princess theirselves and it was best if Riannon was fully awake and had a lot of energy for such social interaction because even it made Lara exhausted by the end of it. 

[elderbloodcarrier]

@caelmewedd​ continued from X

Lara was surprised genuinely surprised when Taliath brought them not only their breakfast, but some piece’s of cake. As her father commented on the fact that it must have been made by Avallac’h, her green eyes went wide, knowing she would have to try it. Trying it, Lara was amazed by the taste of it and how it practically melted in her mouth. Even more so, she was surprised by the fact that Avallac’h knew how to bake too. And here she thought he was only just talented with the art of being an Aen Saevherne or playing the flute. “That fox really knows how to charm me. I can’t believe he went to all this...but I’m grateful and it appears so are you, luned.” 

She saw the way Riannon had reacted to the taste of the cake to, practically having the same reaction to it as her mother did. “I think she approves entirely. We’re going to have to thank our fox for surprising us with this.” Lara giggled, lightly booping her daughter’s nose as the child giggled back.

Now that she had dessert first before her breakfast, Lara turned her attention back to the plate on the tray while going over the preparations for the party. She supposed she would bring it up to her father, curious to see his reaction. “Crevan has invited a special guest for me. You’ll get to meet my good friend, Cerro. She’s a half-elf, just like Riannon.” 

[elderbloodcarrier]

@caelmewedd continued from X

Searching the first places she thought the sage could be proved to be unsuccessful. It even got to the point where Lara asked random people if they saw Avallac’h ride by here. Some were able to give her directions, but it seemed Lara was getting no where. However, she wasn’t about to give up yet. She couldn’t. Crossing the kingdom off her list, the next place to try was the Western Shore. She briefly remembered meeting the viceroy of this section of Tir na Lia, but she had never been close to him like she was with Ge’els. 

Making her way to the harbor, Lara spotted the ship already starting to take off, bidding her horse to race even faster. However, there was no safe way for her to get onto the ship now, even if she tried to leap on with her horse. Letting the poor creature take a break, Lara sighed, knowing there was only one way now. Breathing in, the princess gazed out at the boat, opening a portal so she could appear on it. Once she stepped through, everyone looked to her with wide eyes, but her only concern was finding the sage. If she had to search this whole boat, so be it. “Has anyone seen a sage? He has blonde hair and aquamarine eyes.” She asked, frantically looking around the boat, hoping to find him and ignoring the worry aching in her heart.