#letho the milk man

[dapandapod]

Real housewives of Kaer Morhen

So Witcher but as Real Houswives of Kaer Morhen. Because I can’t get it out of my head. But as a headcanon thingy.

Imagine. 

(On Ao3 now because why the heck not I dont wana lose it xD)

Outside of the big town of Cintra there is block after block of fancy houses. This one is named Kaer Morhen. 

Yennefer and Geralt are married, but in the house next to theirs moves this little boytoy.

Aiden works as the blocks pool boy, and he quickly becomes Jaksiers best friend.

Eskel and Triss are having a bad marrige, struggling real hard behind the scenes, but they show nothing.

So Triss seduces Yennefer.

And Geralt is very much trying not to spy on the very cute neighbour.

Lambert is Jaskiers gardner, and he hates Aiden with a passion. Until he doesn’t.

Vesemir and Tissia live together, they are not married nor in a relationship, but they are like a foster family? They have adoptive children and children who lives with them from time to time to get support from their regular chaotic life.

Yennefer is really mad abou the children, her lawn is in danger for crying out loud. But then she meets Ciri. and she is absolutely melting for her.

Slowly, Triss and Yennefer realize that there is more than sex going on. They are falling in love with each other.

Geralt sees it. He sees his wife falling in love with Triss and out of love with him, and he is so kind about it. They have a very tough conversation and they end up splitting up. They are still friends.

It doesn’t go as well for Triss and Eskel. They have a huge blow out, yelling and screaming. Triss and Yennefer ends up moving in together, and Eskel is alone in their big house. As revenge, he buys a hoard of goats and lets them live in the garden.

The children are playing a new game; “where are the goats today”, and Eskel might be encouraging some of them to uh… move the goats to get them where they are not supposed to be.

Eskel gets offered to take care of a little one that lost her mother. She is small and weak, and he makes her sweaters and names her Lil Bleater.

But she really isn’t well, and in the middle of the night he is forced to let go of his anger and pride and he runs to Triss and Yennefer's door.

Triss opens, and Eskel is crying with the little goat in his arms, begging to see Yennefer, who used to be a vet.

She does help him, and Eskel sits in their kitchen, head in his hand, being a wreck.

But Lil bleater gets better, and in the morning she eats from the bottle she refused before. 

They are all three reluctantly somewhat friends again.

But the goats are still everywhere. Because he can.

And now Geralt is free to deal with… whatever it is he feels for the boytoy Jaskier. Lambert and Jaskier started out as having a thing, and Geralt being his closest neighbour sees them making out everywhere.

Jaskier is of course interested in Geralt from the moment he lays eyes on him, but he doesn’t seem to realize Jaskier is hitting on him.

Geralt only realizes men are allowed to love men when he sees Lambert and Jaskier kiss real tenderly the first time.

It makes him feel things he can’t really place, but he does some googling and he lears a ton of new things. After that, he starts to see that Jaskier is flirting with him, and Jaskier is absolutely delighted when Geralt gets flustered.

(at some point there is a block festival with a pride theme that Jaskier makes them arrange. Eskel makes sweaters for all the goats with all the flags. The children loves it, and it is very chaotic. Ciri especially, who is crushing hard on Cerys, Lamberts niece. (and Crach is Lamberts brother, because we can) and Geralt and Ciri are bonding because they don’t know how to deal with their crushes)

Lambert and Jaskier start out as a fling, but it becomes clear to them both that this is more or less to make someone else jealous. For Jaskier, it is to tease Geralt, to show him what he could have, now that he is single. And for Lambert, well. It is to show Aiden that… he doesn’t know what, but that will teach him. 

And Aiden keeps smirking at him knowingly, and it drives Lambert out of his mind. 

Until it drives him into the pool shed, on his knees, doing what he absolutely haven't been thinking about for months. 

Jaskier finally gets Geralt, but it is by pure accident. It was raining? And he somehow got locked out of his house, thanks to the goats most likely, and Geralt let him sleep in his house. 

Jaskiers pretty hair was sticking to his face, his fancy shirt ruined. Jaskier barely even flirted with him, but when he was warm again, dressed in one of Geralt's shirts and swept in a warm blanket on the couch, Geralt reached in and kissed him. 

It was so gentle and sweet that Jaskier ached, their eyes searched each other before they were leaning in again. They fell asleep wrapped around each other, and for the first time in a long time, Jaskier felt like someone wanted to keep him. 

At some point before Eskel and Triss breaks it off, there is a BBQ where Jaskier is big time flirting with Geralt, and Yen and Triss are sneaking off. Regis, the “head of the block” and his two wards/sons, Valdo and Detlaff are also there, stiff and in full fancy garb. Valdo hates Jaskier with a passion because of his freedom, and they might end up friends at some point?

Philippa is there too, she lives next to Regis on the outskirts of town, she works with wildlife restoration. She is very very taken with a wonderful lady no one has ever seen. 

Detlaff is a real brat and doesn’t want her noisy, smelly house in their block, but Regis is adamant she stays. The nature around them has never looked better, and that is thanks to her and the goats.

Sabrina and Istred are married, and Sabrina is the biggest Karen you have ever seen. Almost bigger than her boobs. Istred work all the time (and is smitten with Yennefer, everybody knows, and Sabrina gets sooo passive agressive around her) and is rarely home, and Sabrina is just the biggest gossip around.

Letho is the milk man.

And he loves goats...... 

:)

[inexplicifics]

A snippet for my darling Rose from the Fic Specific Asks meme: she asked for Geralt, Letho and the other witchers confronting the Lord who gave the children to the Ladies and then returning the children to the parents.

*

“Borys of Leyda,” Geralt says grimly.

Letho doesn’t let his expression change from smoldering fury, but inside, he’s grinning. The Wolf does intimidatingly angry so beautifully well, it’s genuinely a pleasure to watch. Borys of Leyda is pale as milk, and shaking in his fancy boots.

The servants crowded into the doorways of the hall, far enough back to be just barely out of sight, are quiet as mice, but Letho can feel their stares, smell their terrified anticipation.

The little girl in a makeshift sling on Letho’s back shifts a little, and he can smell her apprehension. Borys of Leyda is probably nearly as scary as the ladies of the wood were, to her; if Borys regularly has her father beaten then she probably thinks of the baron as a monster in truth. Well, this should be cathartic for her, then.

“My lord,” Borys of Leyda quavers.

Geralt drops the head of one of the ladies of the wood in front of Borys and snarls, “Explain.”

“Explain, my lord?” Borys says. “It…looks like some sort of monster?”

“Explain to me,” Geralt says slowly and clearly, “why the children of your barony were caged by the ladies of the wood, and you did not call for a Witcher. Why your steward came to me with the marks of a beating fresh upon him, to say you had forbidden any to speak of their lost children. Why you reek of guilt.”

“I - I - I don’t know what you mean, my lord,” Borys stammers. “Whatever tale my steward told you, I assure you, he lied -”

“We can smell lies,” Geralt rumbles. “Try again.”

Borys goes, if possible, whiter. “I - you must understand - my lord, they were only peasant children, worthless brats, my subjects to do with as I please - the, the ladies promised me there would be no bastards to pollute my line - ”

“Ah,” Geralt says, low and furious. “No.” Borys starts to stammer something else, and Geralt growls. “Be silent.”

Borys makes a gulping sort of noise and shuts up. Geralt takes two long steps forward until he is looming over the baron, glaring down at him; Letho is honestly rather surprised that the nasty little rat doesn’t piss himself in fear.

“No one in my lands is worthless,” the Wolf snarls. “Save only monsters. And a man who feeds children to monsters is a monster in truth.” He draws his sword, the soft sound of metal against leather like a shout in the dead-silent hall.

“Please, my lord,” Borys wails, dropping to his knees. “Mercy!”

“No mercy for monsters,” the Wolf replies, and his sword comes down in a single clean stroke.

Borys of Leyda dies as ignominiously as he lived. Letho lets his grin break through. The Wolf’s justice is frankly a pleasure to see.

At his back, the little girl whispers, “He’s dead.”

“Yep,” Letho confirms, as Geralt turns to ask the servants who ought to be in charge around here. “He’s never gonna hurt you again.”

“Oh,” the little girl murmurs. There’s a brief silence, and then she adds so quietly only Witcher ears could hear it, “I want my Mama and Papa.”

Letho grimaces. “We’re gonna take you to your Papa,” he promises. He has no idea how to tell her her Mama is dead. That’s…something her Papa’s gonna have to handle. “Just a few more days, alright?”

“Alright,” she says, and wriggles a little to get more comfortable in the sling, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and tucking her head against the back of his neck. Letho grimaces. The aftermath of monster hunts is always more miserable than the actual hunting. He knows how to kill monsters; how to comfort the survivors is a different problem.

But at least Borys of Leyda is dead. That, at least, is satisfying as all hell. Frankly, the best bit of being the Warlord’s Witchers is that these days, they can actually see to it that little shitstains like Borys of Leyda get what they fucking well deserve.

[lambden]

mel darling!! can i humbly request some fluff or hurt/comfort with letho and ciri for my favouritest @endrega23? (or just generally sweet letho, my beloved hunk of a man.) thank you so much, i smooch you 🥰

— @witchersgoldenbard 💛

absolutely you can; this was my pleasure to write! since these two don't really meet in canon (and because jjay has quite a few marvel fics on ao3), i went with a secret agent AU! i hope you both enjoy this so much <33

G, 1600 words, Generic secret agent/spy AU. Content warnings for prior animal neglect, references to animal death, and Witcher training.

When Letho first notices the anomaly, he trips over himself for the first time outside of combat in decades. Despite appearances, he isn’t a clumsy person; his size makes him no less graceful, only more of a threat. Geralt’s trainee snorts as Letho struggles to regain his footing, and her bright eyes flash open wide with curious amusement. “What?”

He hardly wants to admit that this entire time he’s been standing in Ciri’s doorway, he has failed to notice the orange threat lying in her pile of similarly coloured blankets. In his defence, the girl’s room looks far less drab than anyone else’s quarters in this base. But maybe this isn’t even a new addition to the room; there’s no telling how long Ciri has kept this thing around. Letho answers her question with one of his own: “What is that?”

Ciri looks unimpressed. “I know most Witchers keep themselves pretty removed from the real world, but surely you’ve heard of cats.” She reaches for the beast, gripping under its soft, skinny belly and pulling it up into her lap. Aside from a nasty scar just beside its ear, the cat looks harmless enough. Letho bristles and it doesn’t help Ciri’s expression. “What’s the problem? Got an allergy?”

“You shouldn’t have something like that here,” he snarls. Ciri freezes and pulls the cat closer nearly protectively, but the guilt seeping through Letho’s cold heart isn’t nearly enough to stop him. “This is no place for a fucking pet.”

The ensuing beat of silence almost convinces him that he’s won, that she’ll throw this mangy animal back into the pound she no doubt rescued it from. For the first time, Ciri looks like a real girl and not a superhuman danger to international security— and she looks frightened too. Letho doesn’t back down, and even though it looks like she might, Ciri doesn’t either. The cat starts purring gently, and Letho knows he’s fucked. Scowling, Ciri protests, “But Lambert feeds the ducks down by the lake!”

“Can’t think of a worse role model than Lambert.”

“And Eskel keeps a goat out in the courtyard!”

And Geralt kept you, Letho very much does not retort, frowning just as bitterly as Ciri. Instead, he tells her, “Goats provide milk. Eskel’s smart enough to know that in an emergency, the goat would be the first to go. Pets are a distraction— you’re not keeping it. End of story.”

“You’re not my superior,” Ciri snaps. “Technically, I outrank you. So my cat is none of your business. End of story!”

The cat mewls quietly as if in agreement, and Letho turns on his heel and storms away from the girl’s room. He heads straight to the firing range, meaning to work out his frustration with some target practice, but when he tries to fasten the headset over his ears he finds his hands shaking unexpectedly.

He doesn’t even remember his mentor’s face now, after so many decades spent as far away from Gorthur Gvaed as he could get. But Letho remembers the one moment of kindness the cruel instructor had shown him, bookended by terrible memories that plagued his nightmares for years afterwards. In-between testing their poison immunity and forcing them through training courses too difficult to escape unscathed, the Viper instructor led Letho’s class into a small room. 

The gasps of the boys who entered before him made him nervous, but when Letho finally rounded the corner there was no horrific sight awaiting him. Instead he was surprised to see a pen with at least a dozen small kittens roaming around. The recruits were told that cats naturally distrusted Witchers so as a challenge, the Vipers would need to gain the trust of the fickle animals— or some story like that, anyway. Letho hadn’t questioned the reasoning too closely, blinded by his excitement at the first gift he’d ever been given.

The cat— his cat— had been a bright point during the following years of darkness. Letho, persuasive and almost too intelligent for his own good, had no problem getting the pet to trust him. The problem was that he grew too attached, so when it came time for the final test he would face, Letho failed to spot his own weakness.

He passed the test. The last piece he needed slid into place easily. Letho walked into that room as a tactical machine and walked out a killer, with a conscience wiped clear without any trouble. Or at least, he hadn’t thought there had been any trouble— not until decades later, when he saw Geralt’s apprentice holding a small orange tabby and was suddenly reminded of a loss he had nearly accepted.

Nobody bothers him until later in the evening, when Letho has abandoned the idea of shooting away his feelings. The kitchens are usually empty at this time of night so he’s surprised when the door swings open; he’s even more surprised when he turns and sees… no one.

Letho frowns. For a beat the room is ominously empty; then approaching tiny footfalls alert him to the identity of his visitor. Staring up at him is Ciri’s cat, because of course it fucking is. Letho stares right back, glaring at the creature with what he refuses to acknowledge as bitter, bitter jealousy.

After a moment of consideration, the cat moves closer and bumps its head against his leg. Letho sharply inhales before finally bending at the waist to give the creature some attention. He’s careful not to scratch near the scar on its head; even though the wound appears healed, Letho doesn’t want to aggravate it at all. The animal keens into his touch instantly, its soft, raspy purr an unexpected balm for his senses. 

Letho, to his absolute horror, feels tears pricking up in the corners of his eyes. This only spurs the cat to be even cuddlier, of course, and Letho clears his throat. “You’re a cute one,” he admits. “Wonder if she gave you a name yet. Used to call mine Furball. … Maybe let’s keep that between us.”

The cat turns away to peek back in the direction it came, ears perking as it listens. Sure enough Letho hears the same sound a moment later, as someone races towards the kitchen and practically kicks the doors back open. It’s Ciri, looking a little windswept. Her cat meows loudly and joyously, quickly abandoning Letho to return to its owner’s side. The creature’s loyal. Letho will give it that, at least.

“Sorry, sorry, I think he saw a mouse,” Ciri quickly stammers, picking up the cat. She clearly hasn’t spent much, if any, time around animals before this one; she has no idea how to hold it properly. The animal doesn’t seem to mind, just twisting in her grip until he’s comfortable. “I didn’t mean to bother you! I’ll keep it away, I promise— Vesemir told me cats don’t really like Witchers, and I’m sure you’ve got some deep-seated trauma thingy about this because almost everyone here’s got stuff about everything, but, um… I’m sorry, I’ll keep him in my room!”

Letho thinks about if it would be wise to tell her about his deep-seated trauma thingy. Then at least she wouldn’t be left wondering why he was such an asshole to her earlier, and maybe she’d even get rid of the cat and he wouldn’t have to deal with this newfound flood of emotion ever again. But Ciri looks nervous, cradling the animal close to her chest again like she’s nearly scared that Letho will do something to harm it. He takes a heavy breath in, then out. “It’s a boy?”

“Yeah,” Ciri nods. “I found him when I was doing a recon mission with Coën— someone left him tied up in this awful dark basement. So I had to bring him back, obviously.”

Obviously. Letho silently muses on this, then finally he asks, “Given him a name yet?” Taken aback by the question, Ciri silently shakes her head. Letho smirks at the scrawny cat. “How about Gaetan?”

-

The following week, an unfriendly and impatient civilian places an emergency call to Morhen HQ, demanding that the agency deploys its best men to search for his missing feline. Unluckily for him, Letho is the first responder, and he’s less than sympathetic to the man’s claims.

“I have pictures,” the man tells Letho, brandishing said pictures in his face. Yes, Letho has in fact Seen This Animal; in fact last night he yelled at that very animal when it jumped up onto the dinner table to try to steal his salmon, and then eventually caved and ate his dinner on the floor beside the cat, and then chased a certain Wolf around the building for an hour threatening murder if Lambert didn’t delete that fucking picture right fucking now. He shakes his head, smiling to himself— this enrages the stranger, who misinterprets his amusement as derision. “Don’t you even give a fuck? My property got stolen!”

“Not really,” Letho tells him, just to watch him splutter. “Maybe you treated the cat like shit. Animals don’t just up and leave. And anyway, this is below my paygrade.”

“Your paygrade?!” The man stares, eyes bugging out of his head. “I thought you Witchers were supposed to be heroes!”

“You thought wrong,” says Letho, still smiling faintly as he steps towards the man. Coën and Ciri will be so happy to hear that Letho gained more information about their failed reconnaissance mission; and if in some small way he feels like he’s getting vengeance for Furball… well. Nobody needs to know his motives here.