#king eist

[bookcalanthedaily]

got this cutest little thing from the incredible @xejune!

[kaliarda]

hey king, χρειαζομαι βοήθεια! έχεις καθόλου προτάσεις βιβλίων από κουίρ ελληνίδες συγγραφείς; (προσπαθώ γενικότερα να διαβάσω περισσότερα βιβλία ελλήνων. αλλά μέχρι τώρα το μόνο που βρήκα είναι η ερωμένη της)

Χευ!! Άργησα λιγάκι αλλά αυτή είναι μια μικρή λίστα κουίρ ελληνικής λογοτεχνίας, ποίησης, ιστορίας και κοινωνιολογικών έργων - δεν είμαι σίγουρος αν όλοι οι συγγραφείς είναι οι ίδιοι λοατκι, και κάποια από αυτά τα έργα (ειδικά τα παλιότερα) μπορεί να έχουν outdated ιδέες ή να περιγράφουν αρκετά σκληρά πράγματα, οπότε: read with caution. Δεν τα έχω διαβάσει όλα, μόνα κάποια, αλλά είναι στη λίστα μου! Αν ξέρει κανένα σας κι άλλα, στείλτε μου και θα τα προσθέσω <3<3 💌 <3<3

Λόλα Καραμπόλα - Ερωφίλη Κόκκαλη

Ελαττωματικό Αγόρι - Sam Albatros

Τι Θυμάσαι απ’ τον Θάνατό Σου; - Πυθαγόρας Ελευθεριάδης

Οι Νταλίκες και Τα Γυναικάκια τους - Άννη Σιμάτη

Μπλε Υγρό - Βίβιαν Στεργίου

Ο Τελευταίος Κύκνος - Στέφανος Δάνδαλος

Καλαμέρως - Ευριπίδης Σαμπάτης

Ήσυχα να πας - Ούρσουλα Φωσκόλου

Μακάρι να το είχα κάνει νωρίτερα - Νόα Τίνσελ

μερακλίνα|κουκιμπιμπέρισσα|ομπλαντί - Ευά Παπαδάκης

Αμφί και Απελευθέρωση, & Ο Καιάδας - Λουκάς Θεοδωρακόπουλος

Σεξουαλικότητα (Θεωρίες και πολιτικές της Ανθρωπολογίας) - Κώστας Γιαννακόπουλος

Σώμα | Φύλο | Σεξουαλικοτητα (ΛΟΑΤΚ πολιτικές στην Ελλάδα) - Άννα Αποστολέλλη και Αλεξάνδρα Χαλκιά

Κλωτσιές με δωδεκάποντα: Η ανάλυση ενός συλλογικού εμείς μετά τη δολοφονία του Ζακ/της Ζάκι - Μαρία Μάζη

Η Πάλη για την Τρανς Απελευθέρωση - Αφροδίτη Φράγκου

Ανθολογία Ελληνικής Κουήρ Ποίησης (Εκδόσεις Θράκα)

Έλα να σου πω: Φεμινιστικές, λεσβιακές ναι κουήρ αφηγήσεις της μεταπολίτευσης (FAC Press)

Χασέπ - Αρτέμης Μαυρομμάτης

Μόνο κανέναν μη μου φέρεις σπίτι - Νικόλας Κουτσοδόντης

Μονοκατοικία με κήπο - Χρήστος Ρούσσος

Homo Thessalonikus - Κυριάκος Βλάχος

re eiste oloi poly gay kai sas variemai - Μότσι Γεωργίου

Η Ζωή Μου Στο Κόκκινο - Ζώντας με το AIDS: Μαρτυρίες - Μάριος Λαζανάς

Ομόνοια, 1980 - Γιώργος Ιωάννου

Μπέττυ - Ελισάβετ Βακαλιδου

Ο γοργόνος και άλλα πλάσματα - Σπύρος Χαιρέτης

Ελ Ποι, Ελληνική Λεσβιακή Ποίηση - Χαρά Τρε

Η φίλη μου κυρία Ντόρα Ρωζέττη - Ελένη Μπακοπούλου

Προσευχές Έκτακτης Ανάγκης - Τάκης Σπετσιώτης

Η Μεταφυσική της Μιας Νύχτας - Ανδρέας Αγγελάκης

Δυο Σταγόνες Βροχή - Πρόδρομος Σαββίδης

Ίσως #1: Ανθολογία Σύγχρονου Ελληνικού Διηγήματος (Εκδόσεις ΟΞΥ)

Αυτή η νύχτα μένει - Θάνος Αλεξανδρής

Ήθελα να γίνω αστροναύτης - Μίλτος Κουτλής

Επιθυμίες και πολιτική, & Ελληνική Τηλεόραση και Ομοερωτισμός - Κωνσταντίνος Κυριακός

Καλιαρντά <3 - Ηλίας Πετρόπουλος

Μπλε Καστόρινα Παπούτσια - Θανάσης Σκρουμπέ��ος

Ιστορίες για να μη λείπεις όσο θα λείπεις - Παρασκευάς Καρασούλος

Ερωτογενείς Ζώνες - Marachi

Οι άγγελοι δεν έχουν φύλο - Τζένη Χειλουδάκη

[[Γνωστοί Ποιητές του 20ου αιώνα: Κωνσταντίνος Καβάφης, Ναπολέων Λαπαθιώτης, Ντίνος Χριστιανόπουλος, Γιάννης Τσαρούχης, Νίκος-Αλέξης Ασλάνογλου]]

Επίσης- τσεκάρετε τις Εκδόσεις Πολύχρωμος Πλανήτης & τις εκδόσεις Οδός Πανός - Σιγαρέτα.

Για όσα είναι Αθήνα, οι παραπάνω οίκοι έχουν βιβλιοπωλεία (το ένα στη Βικτώρια, το άλλο στα Εξάρχεια). Προτείνω επίσης το κουήρ βιβλιοπωλείο Hyper Hypo στο Μοναστηράκι, τη συλλογή του Feminist Autonomous Center στον Άγιο Παντελεήμονα, και την πολύγλωσση βιβλιοθήκη We Need Books στην Κυψέλη (στην οποία θα βρείτε ένα pride section και δωρεάν τσαγάκι).

[winters-mistress]

Moonblood

Let it be known that Geralt and his brothers are, all in all, good men. Yeah, they can be dicks -like that time Eskel and Geralt had dressed up as Wyverns and leaped upon their brother while he slept, or that time Lambert had spiked a bottle of white gull with a certain medicinal herb that made the thief more than obvious- but they are good men. Stupid, granted -Geralt had thrown Lambert off a snowdrift when they were training, while Eskel had tried to balance the wall after drinking two entire tankards of brandy- but they are good men.

Geralt had tried to make it clear on the trip up to Kaer Morhen with his new ward. All in all, she seemed to believe him, until Lambert had started hissing at her, about the way the pretty little princess did her pretty little hair and wore her pretty little dress and stuck her pinky up when she drank water. Ciri had thrown a horse shoe at him, and all deemed to have been well after that. Lambert was less of a knob, Eskel tried his best to push past his pain of yet another blonde daughter of Kaer Morhen running around the hallways, Coen was thrilled to have another lover of the arts amongst the cranky wolves, and Vesemir slipped into the old master role with ease.

Things had been going well -albeit with Cirilla's still wild powers popping up at the most inconvenient of times- with his girl eager to learn anything they would teach her. Swordplay, hand to hand combat, star throwing, sword making and even the mundane things like hunting, skinning, cooking, harvesting and laundry she took to with eagerness. It had probably been those weeks of confusion and helplessness that spurned her onwards in all things they taught her, eager never to be how she had been ever again.

And it was because of her determination and her willingness to get down and scrap with the witchers, sampling the alcohol they had let her have and twirling a cheese knife when she was taught how, with her messily tied braid and dusty cheeks as Lambert taught her all the fun curse words Eist hadnt gotten around to yet as he went theiught he basics of bombs, that they almost forgot the most obvious thing of all.

Ciri was a girl.

And that was why it was so startling to Geralt when Lambert had started snipping at the girl because of her washed hair and face -was it about that? Geralt hadn't been paying attention, he was so shocked at her reaction that the context didn't seem important anymore- that ciri simply dropped her spoon into her bowl of porridge, and promptly burst into tears.

All of the witchers took a deep breath, rearing back as if the girl would suddenly leap out and strike. She didn't do that, simply sat there on the bench and cried into her hands.

Geralt reaches over to her, having stayed close when her scent had changed a couple days ago. He didn't know why, and with all the Kings and Mages hunting the girl, any changes was concerning. That and the sudden metallic scent of blood he had noted when the girl had walked into the room that morning, he was very unnerved by this reaction.

Not knowing what else to do, and with his mind spinning as he tried to come up with a reason of why his girl was acting so differently, the witcher reaches out and brings her into his arms. She goes willingly, clinging to him as she continues to cry.

"I-I-I- uh-" Lamb stutters, looking at his brother, eyes wide. He's befuddled, and obviously concerned that his brother will be the one to leap at him and pummel him.

Geralt cuddles his girl as best he can, shushing her, and taking in the scent once more. It's different than her usual honey and lemon and rose petals, more salty and bitter, as well as the metallic scent of blood.

Changes of scent, blood, crankiness- oh.

"Ah." The penny finally drops, running his hands over her back as she sniffles. "I get it now."

And it seems that his brothers and father attain the same knowledge at the same time. They relax and tense in the same moment, obviously unsure of what to say.

"Get what? I disnt-" Lmabert speaks fast.

"Can you not smell the blood?" Eskel huffs quietly, cuffing his brother. "She's a girl. They bleed."

"What? I-oh. Oh. Yeah, I get it. Fuck. I-fuck." Lambert rambles. "Umm, I'm very sorry, Ciri. Didn't mean to upset ya." He drawls awkwardly, fiddling with his blackened fingers.

She finally starts to compose herself, but doesn't seem willing to let go of Geralt just yet.

"Shit-uh-" Vesemir mutters. "Girl, if you don't feel up to training or lessons, you can have a few days away from it. Don't want to pressure you." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "And, if you want to head back to bed, that's fine too. Or train as normal, whatever works for you."

Ciri sniffles, and stops crying, but doesn't let go of the white haired witcher, nor look at his kin.

"Uh, you want a tonic? For the pain? I'm sure we can find something that'll work to take the discomfort. Does it hurt, lovers have mentioned that it does." Vesemir starts to ramble.

Geralt, Eskel and Lambert grunt in disgust. Eskel groans in agony, while Lambert gags.

"Melitele's tits, old man. Last thing any of us want to picture is you sticking your dick in a woman."

Geralt gags at that, and Ciri manages a giggle.

Coën shares a grin with the old wolf, both of them knowing why he had added the last part.

"In all seriousness, you need anything, girl? We could rip up some of the old bedsheets for cloth, figure out what tonic would make ya feel better. Can look in some of the old textbooks for that tea recipe the matrons used to swear by." Coën says, looking at the girl as she finally pulls from Geralt a little. He slings an arm around her shoulders as she burrows in.

"Yes, thank you." She whispers, wiping her blotchy face.

"Come on-" Geralt pulls at her wrists as he stands. "let's get you laying down, that'll make you feel better? Can get a waterskin, fill that up with some hot water, does that help."

"It-it does." She nods, standing up. She looks at the other witchers. "Thanks, for being nice, I guess. I know it's not something you deal with usually."

"Nonsence, girl. Get restin', feelin' better. You're no use to us all teary and bloody." Lambert smirks, sincerely hoping the girl wouldn't cry again.

And by the way she huffs and flips him off, he's amused and jovial once again.

Now, where are those bedsheets?

[kingsanddragonsandgods]

I have two fanfics in my head, both OC's are a child of Daemon by Rhea Royce(this is one character male or female I wish eisted in canon, a child by those two) and I have no idea how to start to write.

#1- Aegon the Elder x OC- she's Aegon's age, perhaps a few months older, conceived during Daemon exile to the Vale post the heir for a day debacle. Daemon is not a present father during her formative years and later on she no longer cares. She dislikes her stepmothers(for a number of reasons). She's not close to her stepsiblings or half-siblings, she does not hate or dislikes them, she just doesn't care to care🤷🏻‍♀️. Her presence changes Aegon (I do believe that love and a gentler touch early in life would have made a difference in his life) Alicent is too afraid in the show to be gentle with her eldest, Aegon was supposed to be strong, to be the shield that keeps them all alive, but obviously tough love did not work. Hormonal Aegon is infatuated with her so he WANTS to be worthy of her. She doesn't just live her life waiting to watch what it is to come, she prepares the stage, she does not underestimate the other faction--her mother's rock divorce always in mind--.

#2-ViserysxOCniece- I hate Viserys just as much as the next person, but just imagined a character that is and does everything that TB stans accuses Alicent of: she was probably one of Aemma's ladies-in-waiting, instead of Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra's handmaid(historically, the easiest way into the King's bed, is through the Queen's bedchambers), a seductress nymph (in the book there's the rumor that they had a affair while Aemma was still alive, so perhaps who knows🤷🏻‍♀️), seducing poor Viserys into giving her a crown and make her his Queen, Viserys reasoning: she is a better/neutral choice, a Targaryen Princess, a woman grown(14/15yrs old)no one can feel slighted, she's older than Laena, renew the Vale/Targaryen alliance, joining his line to his brother's(Viserys just wants to fuck his niece but he must convince himself that he is better than his brother and better than the average men). She actually plots to put her eldest on the IT, she's giving him sons, she's enduring his attentions, she wants her reward. She has affairs with younger, handsomest men than her husband(There are those that accuse Alicent of f*cking Criston🤷🏻‍♀️ and there were theories that Daeron would be their love child and that's way he was sent to Oldtown😔 or saying she's a who're for showing her feet to Larys). She does take power when her husband is too sick, and she actually does keep him alive and bedridden. What a villain she would make. The Cersei in Cersei's head😂.

(one thing that annoys me is the dumbness or lack of thought present during the DoD, like: there is always talking of how dangerous Daemon is, but what was done to prepare? Why aren't the children sent away to safer locations? Why were the TG armies going around like headless chickens? Why were they still stuck in knightly honor and strategy when their enemies were using guerrilla tactics? Why not set fire to the enemy's ships in the middle of the night? Those kind of things just blow my mind, this is like #1 in warfare)

I want more Machiavellian characters.

[doberbutts]

The thing that grates me the most about all of these smug "but in the canon-" posts about Radovid is that the guy is *thirteen* during his last mention in the books, at his father's funeral, glaring at Phillipa from behind his mother and swearing revenge on her one day. Sapkowski ends the paragraph saying that he will earn the name "the Stern" during his rule.

Games fans conveniently forget that because King Radovid is such a major player in the games, directly affecting multiple characters as well as the narrative throughout, performing several terrible acts of fascism, and being overall yet another choice of "the lesser evil" between one fascist king and one fascist emporer.

Sapkowski's kings aren't likeable people except kind of Calanthe and Eist and Crach (and I guess technically Esterad and Zuleyka, but they get murdered during the same chapter they're introduced) and all of these people still have done terrible things during their rule. Once again remembering the context of Sapkowski's childhood in a post-WWII Poland will explain why his stance seems to be firmly "there is no such thing as a good soldier also there are no kings that aren't fascists".

Would it make sense for Radovid to go full magic-Hitler and participate in purges, genocides, public executions, and conversion tortures? Absolutely, it's not like other kings in Sapkowski's books have shied away from the same. But we don't actually know that he's going to do that, because that was an interpretation that the GAMES popularized, not the actual canon of the novels.

The games are not canon. They happen several years after canon ends. They make their own changes to the canon and have their own plotlines that deviate from their canon origins. Radovid's future is included in that.

[dukeofdogs]

Master post for Gwent lore pt 1

Base set:

Monsters

Arachas Queen

Eredin Bréacc Glas

Unseen Elder

Woodland Spirit

Scoiatel

Brouver Hoog

Eithné

Filavandrel aén Fidháil

Francesca Findabair

Northern Realms:

Princess Adda 

Demavend

King Foltest

King Henselt

Nilfgaard

Emhyr var Emreis 

Jan Calveit

Morvran Voorhis 

Usurper

Skellige

Bran Tuirseach

Crach an Craite 

Eist Tuirseach 

Harald the Cripple

Year of the Wild Boar:

Thronebreaker

Ardal aep Dahy

Arnjolf

Eldain

Gernichora

Meve

Crimson Curse

Anna Henrietta

Queen Calanthe

Dana Méadbh

Dettlaff van der Eretein

Svalblod

Novigrad

King of Beggars

Cleaver

Sigismund Djikstra

Gudrun Bjornsdottir   

Cyrus Engelkind Hemmelfart   

Whoreson Junior

Iron Judgment

Merchants of Ofir

Year of the Dire Rat

Master Mirror

Grand Master of the Flaming Rose (Jacques de Aldersberg)

Sparrowhawk (Eredin)

Wrath of Brokilon (Eithné)

The Cripple (Harald the Cripple)

Emperor of Nilfgaard (Usurper)

King of Kerack (Viraxas)

Way of the Witcher

Viy

Erland of Larvik

Arnaghad 

Gezras of Leyda

Ivar Evil-Eye

Fallen Rayla

Year of the Great Oak

Stalwart Leadership

Advanced Tactics

Price of Power

She Who Knows

Duchess of Dol Blathanna

Melusine

Leticia Charbonneau

The Witchfinder

Vilgeforz

Year of The Cursed Toad

Vial of Forbidden Knowledge

Mysterious Puzzle Box

Renfri

Eltibald

Boholt

Sove & Ulula

Dagon

Svalblod Bear

Part 2

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

NPC Wednesday: Svanringe Tuirseach

A minor character that has a high position in Skellige. The firstborn and only child of the late King Bran, heir of Clan Tuirseach, which is the same clan Eist from the books came from. Not many thought he is capable of great things. Thought him a puppet to Birna Brans' strings. Yet, he showed his quality by exposing Birnas' schemes in front of the jarls, choosing either exile or death.

I didn't pursue his path to kinghood in any of my gameplays for tactical reasons: I needed some An Craites in the defense of Kaer Morhen.

Photo from my PS4 gameplay with PS enhancements.

[astaldis]

Whumper's Monthly Issue 21 - Failed Execution

@whumpers-monthly

Fandom: The Witcher Netflix

Whumpee: Cahir

Caretaker: Triss Merigold

Words: 17,049 Chapters: 8/8

Published: 2021-10-11 Completed: 2021-10-20

Excerpt from Chapter 5 of Long Story (Written Pre-Season 2):

After numerous speeches had been held by both kings and sorcerers to honour the fallen mages, the last to speak was King Foltest. By the end of his powerfully eloquent oration, several Temerian guards entered the hall, in their midst a prisoner. 

Triss Merigold had to look twice before she recognised the man. He was still wearing the typical Nilfgaardian striped uniform trousers and the same black shirt, however, after many weeks spent in a dungeon cell, his hair was considerably longer and he had grown a big, bushy beard. Having been rather on the slender side to begin with, he now looked decidedly emaciated. And sick.

"Today we shall not only honour the memory of our fallen brothers and sisters, mages and humans alike, and form a lasting alliance with the Aen Seidhe, the People of the Hills, against the Nilfgaardian aggressor," King Foltest concluded his speech, "but also see justice done. Bring forth the prisoner!"

The guards walked the Nilfgaardian toward the head of the hall where King Foltest was standing. Adjacent to the monument there was a wooden platform, on it a shrouded, mysterious cuboidal structure that was now revealed as an executioner's block. 

"This here," King Foltest pointed an accusing finger at the shackled man, "is the Nilfgaardian commander who led the attack on Sodden Hill and thus is responsible for the deaths of the heroes we have gathered to commemorate. However, this is not all. He also killed our fellow ruler, King Eist of Cintra!" 

'Murderer!' 'Death to the king-slayer!' and similar angry shouts rang through the hall. Foltest turned towards the prisoner.

"In my authority as King of Temeria, Pontaria and Mahakam and Prince of Sodden, I, Foltest the first, sentence you, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, to death by beheading!" 

On this clue, a tall, bulky, bare-chested man entered the room, his face covered with a pointed black hood with only slits for the eyes, in his hands a heavy axe. The executioner stepped onto the podium. The prisoner, who had drawn himself up proudly, followed, accompanied by two guards. 

"Any last words, Nilfgaardian?"

"I'm not a Nilfgaardian. I'm from Vicovaro," the condemned man said hoarsely and with difficulty, trying to suppress a dry cough.

"Well, that won't change anything. Kneel!"

The prisoner went down on his knees and put his head on the executioner's block on his own accord. A guard parted his longish curls so the executioner would better see where to hit.

"Headsman, proceed!" shouted King Foltest. The executioner raised his axe. 

"Wait, Your Majesty! I have a proposition to make," Vilgefortz of Roggeveen intervened just seconds before the axe fell. Not a little surprised, King Foltest motioned the executioner to halt. Knowing the cunning sorcerer well, this might be worth listening to although the timing was quite annoying. Well, it was common knowledge that mages loved dramatic entrances, and Vilgefortz was no exception, on the contrary.

"I usually adhere to the motto 'business before pleasure'. Why not let us begin our peace negotiations first and have the execution after dinner, as just deserts, so to say, the blood of the common enemy sealing the pact. Highly symbolic. And it is going to be a lot more dramatic in the dark."

An approving murmur went through the crowd, some even clapped in consent.

"You are not wrong there, Vilgefortz. Symbolism is important. And it seems most of our revered guests approve. So be it then," said King Foltest consenting to the sorcerer's proposition. "Let the historical peace talks between elves and men commence!" He gave a sign to the executioner and guards to withdraw to one of the adjoining rooms with the prisoner. The headsman would not mind as he earned good coin for his services. 

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 

The negotiations were dragging on. It would be far from easy to reach an agreement as there were diametrically opposing interests between the different factions. Naturally, the elves demanded an independent elven kingdom of Dol Blathanna, which the Northern kings, especially the rulers of Aedirn and Kaedwen, could not possibly agree to. The Brotherhood of Sorcerers did their best to mediate, but so far to no avail. 

Feeling an upcoming headache behind her temples, Triss Merigold decided to take a break. Some fresh air would do her good. Excusing herself politely, she left the hall. There was a shortcut to the terrace from one of the siderooms. Coincidentally it turned out to be the same sideroom where they were holding the Nilfgaardian prisoner. He was slumped against the far wall, eyes closed, a hacking cough wracking his body. He seemed to be feverish again. Damn Vilgefortz, it would have been more merciful to let the execution proceed as planned. It might still be hours before the negotiations concluded, if they concluded at all today. This was only prolonging the prisoner's suffering. Anyway, weren't the condemned entitled to some comfort on the day of their execution? A last meal, some wine? This prisoner had obviously not had either, not even a simple drink of water. Determined the sorceress left the palace and walked the short way to her home. 

Returning with her medical bag, she entered the sideroom again and approached the prisoner. Knowing the chestnut-haired sorceress the guards let her proceed. What was the man's name again? Foltest had mentioned it. Cahir something? From Vicovaro, not Nilfgaard.

She hunkered down in front of the young man, who was still coughing painfully, and picked a vial from her bag. A magical linctus that would help alleviate the acute bronchitis that he had contracted in the cold and damp dungeons. Another one against the fever. And, considering what was to come, a strong pain-killer. If the executioner was good, death by beheading was supposed to be quick and rather painless, but who knew? Nobody who was executed could ever tell the tale. And it was not uncommon that the headsman had to strike twice or even three times ...

"Cahir?" The prisoner blinked, then opened his bleary eyes. "Drink," she ordered with a distinct sense of déjà-vu. Since his hands were shackled behind his back, she had to hold the vials to his lips. After he had swallowed the three potions, she produced a flask of wine from her bag and a glass. Usually she would not recommend taking wine together with magic potions and definitely not on a presumably empty stomach, but this here called for an exception. A surprised look appeared on the Nilfgaardian's, no, Vicovarian's face.

"Why are you doing this?" he rasped.

"I guess I'm an idiot. Now drink before I change my mind." 

"Est est," the prisoner said after a few sips looking even more surprised since it was an excellent and very expensive wine. Surely not something you would waste on an enemy prisoner. They had on very rare and special occasions enjoyed it in Darn Dyffra, his family's castle, the last time when he was bestowed the title of count by the Emperor. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

"You know your wines. Drink up, I don't have all day." 

"Thank you," the prisoner, having drained the glass to the last drop, offered, his voice sounding a little less raspy and strained. "I remember you," he continued hesitantly. "From Sodden Hill. The dungeons."

"You better do. I spent hours of my life patching up your sorry arse although my hands were itching to strangle you. Mind that." 

"I understand." The prisoner said softly, a dejected look in his eyes.

"I need to go." Triss stood up. "Good luck with the execution," she added, not mockingly but actually meaning it. The Vicovarian followed her with his gaze as she left but did not say anything. What was there to say?

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

When Triss joined the convening lords and ladies, mages and elves again, it seemed there had been no substantial progress. She sighed. Would they ever come to an agreement? She really hoped they would, it was vital to prevent another elven uprising or the possibility of the elves collaborating with Nilfgaard against the Northern kingdoms. Rumour had it that already bands of dissatisfied young Aen Seidhe had formed, so-called Scoia'tael commandos, attacking human caravans and outposts, spreading discord and terror in Aedirn and Kaedwen. The elves fighting a guerrilla war against the North would certainly play into Nilfgaard's hands. Who knew, the Empire might even be encouraged to launch another attack on the Northern kingdoms and they would have to fight on two fronts at the same time. 

It was getting late. Dusk was falling and candles, torches and big braziers were lit inside the hall. The discussion got more heated. Fierce arguments arose. Triss looked over to Vilgefortz. He was sitting back in his high chair, a sneer playing around his lips, and did nothing. What was he waiting for? He had arranged this convention. Why was he not interfering, coming up with a feasible solution? He had not given up the hope of finding a compromise, had he? Actually, the powerful mage had not said anything for a while, had let the other participants rile each other up, even insults could be heard now. This seemed to get out of hand and their leader did nothing? He had even disappeared from the hall for quite a while in spite of the ever increasing turmoil. What was he up to? Did he have some cunning plan B? Triss really hoped he had. But as the situation was getting more and more tumultuous, doubt was creeping in. 

Suddenly a guard came into the room. "The prisoner! He is gone!" the man shouted agitatedly. Triss could not believe her ears. How was it possible? There had been at least six guards in the room with the condemned man. And more guards in the hallways and corridors! Together with king Foltest and some others she rushed into the sideroom. The guards as well as the executioner were lying deep asleep in one corner and there was not a trace of their prisoner. More sleeping guards were adorning the corridors. This must be the work of a mage and a very powerful one to boot, there was no other possible explanation.

On waking up, some guards remembered having seen the prisoner being rushed through the corridors by a dark, hooded figure before they had blacked out. Others reported having caught glimpses of the two men mounting a white horse and galloping through the castle gate. Then they seemed to have disappeared. Probably by portal. 

The news of the escape of the Nilfgaardian commander did not help the already extremely tense atmosphere in the great hall. Now accusations were thrown into each other's faces. There must be a traitor among the mages who had facilitated the escape, an inside-man or -woman working for Nilfgaard, but who? Mistrust was growing like a cancer, most of all directed against the elven mages. Had they been siding with Nilfgaard all along and this gathering was just a farce to hood-wink and deceive the Northern kingdoms? Or, were there other parties who would profit from these obviously dead-end negotiations? And if so, who? Already the first groups of guests were leaving the great hall, agitated, affronted, angry and disillusioned, the elven delegation, unsurprisingly, one of the first. 

There was no way of sugarcoating it, the well-intended peace talks had failed spectacularly.

Read the complete story on Ao3 (WARNING: torture!): https://archiveofourown.org/works/34428718

[gothic-burrito]

Never thought this would be how I return to this side of Tumblr but hey, missed me?😂

Idk how big the intersection of people who watched the Witcher and ship Calanthe and Eist and the people who have watched the new kdrama Tomorrow is but here me out.

The story of Joong Gil and Ryeon but it’s Eist and Calanthe!!

Spoiler warning for Tomorrow below the cut for the people who want to know more but haven’t watched the drama yet.

Ok so the basic plot of Tomorrow (copied from google cuz I’m lazy):

“Choi Jun-woong (Rowoon) is a young job seeker who is unable to secure a job. Through an accident, he meets the grim reapers Koo Ryeon (Kim Hee-sun) and Lim Ryung Gu (Yoon Ji-on) who have the task of preventing suicide, and works with them as the youngest contract worker in the crisis management team of death angels.”

Now for the story of Ryeon and Joong Gil:

Ryeon and Joong Gil were married to each other in a past life but she killed herself, which lead to their fate strings getting severed. Which basically means they will never find each other again after they get reborn. Both end up as grim reapers and while she remembers who he is, he has no memory of this past life and therefore also not of her. So they dance around each other for 200+ years basically in constant pain. Him because he has nightmares regarding his life he can’t remember and because he can’t place why he feels so weird in her presence. And her because the husband who she remembers as a loving and gentle guy is now cold, distant and doesn’t recall who she is. (When someone gets reincarnated they are not 100% the exact same person they were before) So he looks and feel like her husband but he is in fact not the husband she knew back in life. And as his memories slowly start to come back she has to confront her fear of getting rejected by him because she was the one to abandon him by committing suicide.

So take that and replace the backstory with the canon storyline of Eist and Calanthe. That’s it. That’s my thought.

I realize that you probably have to have seen the drama to understand why this would have any appeal. (Since it’s basically just angst, yearning and pining with a side of more angst) But damn I can’t get this concept out of my head!

The idea of them dancing around each other for centuries is too fucking tempting! Also Eist in black turtlenecks, menacing coats and clean cut suits with leather gloves????!!!!

It would basically be canon compliant but also modern AU at the same time, since the actual plot would take place in a modern version of the world of the Witcher.

It’s basically lovers to coworkers to enemies to allies to lovers 👌🏼😂

Any thoughts on this? I’m willing to draft and elaborate on this idea cuz it’s really all that has space in my brain rn. BUT idk if I’d have the time to write a fully fleshed out story cuz this would have to be at least 100K words long in order to reach its full potential 😅

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Being Queen Calanthe and King Eist's lover

Request: Yes or No

~

"I cannot wait for this party to end." An amused smile graced your lips, head turning to look at the Lioness of Cintra. Queen Calanthe raised a cup of ale to her lips, taking a sip.

"All these bastards.. Barely any of them are worth my time." She whispered, fingers drumming against the armrest of her throne. Her gaze swept through the room, watching the men drink and laugh.

"If you keep frowning, you'll get more wrinkles." You cooed playfully, staring forward and biting back a smile when Calanthe snapped her head towards you. Eist snickered, covering it up by drinking so he didn't get the same glare.

"Isn't it odd to be your age and bringing someone my age to bed?" You asked, slowly looking at her with a cheeky smile. Calanthe scoffed, fighting back a smile.

"Watch your mouth." Calanthe said, shaking her head. "I am your queen after all."

"Oh, I know, Calanthe. Don't you remember how much you remind me in be-"

"Hush your mouth." Calanthe huffed, cheeks warming softly as she looked forward. Only you and Eist could ever get her to blush. You giggled softly, reaching forward and picking up a cup of wine. Calanthe looked at her daughter, watching her speak with some other young women.

"Would you ever accept a marriage proposal, (Y/N)?" Calanthe asked, turning her head towards you. You furrowed your brows, licking your lips.

"Why do you ask?"

"You won't be young forever." Eist pointed out, head tilting as he studied you. You gave the couple a smile, chuckling softly.

"You shouldn't worry. I'm perfectly happy with the both of you."

Gifs aren't mine

[0ut-of-my-head]

Do you believe in destiny now?

Queen Calanthe and King Eist

requested by @overcoatangel

[bookcalanthedaily]

hope you can find someone to love you better than I did... insp.

[onionsandestiny]

The Witcher characters as Whose Line is it Anyways Quirks

Geralt of Rivia:

Yennefer of Vengerberg: 

Jaskier:

Cirilla of Cintra:

Tissaia de Vries:

King Eist Tuirseach:

Cahir:

Vilgefortz of Roggeveen:

Istredd:

Triss Merigold: 

Tag yourself, I’m Ciri.

[corvo-bianco-lilacs]

I'm not dead and I'm gonna make that fact everyone's problem 😈

-----------

Calanthe rolled over in bed, snuggling up against Eist's side, pressing her face against his shoulder as she let out a long breath.

She felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her against his chest as he rolled over to face her. She smiled, waking up to greet the morning, gazing up I to his eyes.

"Good morning..." She breathed, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, smiling against him as he kissed her back, his right hand coming up to cradle the back of her head.

"Good morning indeed." He hummed in response, pressing another kiss to her forehead. "And good morning to you, little bear."

She smiled as he pressed his palm against the swell of her belly, her hand coming down to rest over his, feeling the life within her press small kicks against their joined hands.

"They're awake, love... Which means it's time for us to get out of bed." She chuckled, rolling onto her back before pushing herself upright, running her hand over the swell.

"Mmhm... And what does my queen fancy for breakfast? I'll make it myself."

"Eist, you could burn water, dear... But the effort is appreciated." She laughed, looking at the false hurt he sported, his hand on his heart.

"Wow... That actually hurt, darling." He sniffled, making her laugh more.

"Will a kiss lessen the pain, my king?"

"Hmm... Perhaps just this once it will..." He replied, a smile returning to his lips.

She chuckled, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips, which he eagerly deepened before she sway his arm, pulling back to take a gasp of air.

"Eist! You're absolutely incorrigible!"

"That may be so... But you love it." He grinned, pulling the quilt off and climbing out of bed. "Now... What would you like for breakfast? And I promise I'll have the cooks make it."

"Eggs would be fantastic... I'm sure that's all the little one would let me eat this morning."

"Done. Be back as soon as it's ready." He grinned, kissing her again before disappearing from their bedroom with a skip to his step.

Calanthe smiled then, rubbing her swollen belly once more with a pleased smile on her lips, turning her gaze out to the sky, watching the birds that streaked past the fluffy white clouds in an ocean of blue.

[ladyorlandodream]

Simping over your wife-to-be-she-doesnt-know-yet level: EIST

[mantorokk]

You cannot tell me this isn’t accurate