#past yennefer/geralt

[geraskierficrecs]

New Story Alert!

I caved and started a new two-shot story featuring a very feral bard.  Enjoy the whump and angst.

Check out the first chapter here.

Teaser:

Priscilla huffed out an aggrieved sounding sigh that made him smile faintly up at the green leaves above him.  “I still don’t think this was a good idea,” she said, repeating an old argument.  “You’re too exposed out there.  Especially now that–”

The clumsy attempt at cutting herself off before she completed the thought was enough to pique Jaskier’s interest.  “Now that what?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t be coy.”

“You don’t want to know about it,” she said.  “That’s what you asked for.  A disconnect.”

There was only one topic Jaskier had sworn to avoid and the thought of it, of him made the smile drop like a stone from his face.  He closed his eyes and forced his breathing to remain steady, knowing Priscilla was like logging every change in his voice.  “Is he hurt?”

The image of Geralt lying dead and abandoned was the sort of madness that inspired his darkest nightmares.  They were the nightmares that left Jaskier shaking and hollow eyed for days afterward.

“He’s…” she sighed, the sound staticky over the cheap phone speakers.  “We don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

The illusion of control was crumbling in his grip like grains of sand.  He lost his battle against the panic threatening to overwhelm him and let it roll over him in waves, searching for the colder emotions lurking beneath the surface.  Anger.  Rage.  Vengeance.

Priscilla’s voice spoke over the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears.  “He went missing two weeks ago.  We haven’t been able to make contact with him.”

“Two weeks?” he repeated.  “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“You’re out,” she said.  “You gave up your chance to be informed.”

[helianthus21]

yennefer did nothing wrong ever, and if she did, that was her sexy era shut up

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 48

Jaskier is feeling insecure. This isn't new. He makes sure everyone always thinks he's at the height of his confidence, but he has bad days. Many times, actually. He had been working up the courage to tell Geralt how he feels, but he saw Geralt and Yennefer talking and it just started digging around in his brain. He's not nearly as pretty as Yennefer, and certainly not as powerful. He's just the annoying bard that follows Geralt around. Geralt is confused when Jaskier is suddenly trying to do everything and anything for Geralt. He's trying out eight different new hobbies, none of which suit him, and all of which being things that are purely practical. When Geralt finally confronts Jaskier about it, Jaskier breaks down over how he'll never be as good as Geralt's previous lovers, and Geralt finally finds his words in order to describe all the many things Jaskier does amazingly and every little quirk that Geralt adores.

[blooms-in-april]

I'm thinking sad Jaskier thoughts.

It takes a while for Geralt to realize the music is gone. Oh Jaskier still sings- for their supper, for Ciri when she's sad, to entertain Kaer Morhen on late card playing nights. But the music- the music is gone. No more of the mindless humming as he walks, no more parsing over rhymes by the fire, no more harassing Geralt for his thoughts on such and such melody. Jaskier sings like a wind-up music box, only when requested, cranked for it, and snapping shut into silence like the sharp closing of a lid.

Yennefer snorts at his concern. "It took you this long to notice?"

Geralt grunts. She smiles, sharp and bitter. "You always were slow."

"How do I fix it?" Geralt snaps. He is not here to be mocked or play games.

"Can you fix it?" Yennefer asks. "I don't know."

Geralt doesn't know either. All he can do is try.

One of the mages had left a god's damned harpsichord in their tower room. It takes Geralt weeks- lugging the ornate monstrosity down from the mages tower, finding schematics in the library for the damn thing, undoing by sheer will the rot and moulding of a hundred years on the instrument. He spends his evenings waist deep in the guts of the instrument, swearing over chords and tuning and keys.

Jaskier's silence, now that he notices it, gapes like an open wound, bleeding wherever he goes. It stains memories of years past, of a cheerful smile and conversation given to him so freely, so easily, not a hint of subterfuge or awkwardness or fear. Now Jaskier only says good morrow if Geralt says it first, only speaks when spoken to, only smiles when Ciri is looking his way.

Geralt polishes the harpsichord until his fingers blister and his nose stings from the smell. He paints the elaborate carvings with pure gold leaf. He spends hours tightening strings trying to get the thing in tune. He worries over it like a child, because he doesn't know what else to do.

"What do you think?" He asks Eskel as they carry it carefully down to Jaskier's room.

"It's very nice." Eskel says diplomatically. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"Appreciate it?" Geralt doesn't want appreciation. He wants that soft tone back in Jaskier's voice when he speaks to him. He wants Jaskier to speak to him, to turn to him free and easy with something to say.

"He'll like it," Eskel says, "Just-"

He turns, his soft eyes full of warning. "Just don't put all your hopes on an old harpsichord."

Lambert snorts, "Too little too late!" He laughs. And Lambert has always been hateful, more so since Aiden was lost, but the words feel true.

Jaskier smiles when he presents him with the harpsichord. He exclaims and laughs and claps his hands. He extolls its virtues, coos over its decorations, fusses over it with all the enthusiasm of a performing parrot. He pulls Ciri onto his lap and guides her hands on the keys, composes a little ditty on the fly for Yennefer, plays something sweet and sad that makes Lambert turn his face away. In all the merriment and gratitude and excitement, he looks Geralt in the eyes only once. Once, upon the first shock of the present. Once, with eyes wide and open, like a wound.

Geralt lingers as the others go off to bed, watching as Jaskier slowly fades as his audience wanes.

"Thank you, Geralt." he says. "It is truly a magnificent present. And far more than I deserve."

Do not thank me is what Geralt wants to say. Do not thank me, not when I have done this to you.

"I didn't do much," is what comes out of his mouth. "It was already there."

Jaskier does not look at him. "If this is an apology-" he says, "I do not need it. You were tired and upset. You spoke your mind. And nothing you said was- untrue. From a certain point of view. You do not need to absolve your guilt to me."

"Jaskier," Geralt says. "I'm sorry."

"And I forgive you." Jaskier says "I forgave you even the moment you after spoke. I don't think I would be myself if I could do otherwise."

It is done. The gift given, the apology accepted. And yet the silence still sits heavy in the air. It is not fixed. It is still broken. It is still out of tune and all of Geralt's twisting and tunings have not set the melody to rights.

"Why are you still like this?" He says. Jaskier stiffens. The words are wrong again, he's done it again, and he could scream with frustration, like a child who keeps swinging the sword and cutting himself on the dulled edge.

"Do you know the Countess de Stael bought me a Stradivarius once?" Jaskier said. "You don't know what that is. A fiddle, rarer than rubies. There were only twenty ever made. It sings like nothing else. She presented it to me on a bed of velvet, and told me she loved me. She told me to stay. And I would have."

Jaskier plinks a few idle notes. "She kicked me out a month later. Too mouthy. Too tacky. Too gauche. She had found someone better. She took back the Stradivarius and handed it off to her new minstrel."

"What I am saying, Geralt-" He says. "What I am asking- Is that you not do things you do not mean. That you not give me false hope. That you stop trying to make me love you, because I already do. I already do and it hurts. It hurts so much."

[inexplicifics]

Cozy prompts- cuddles after a bad day, for Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer? I’m thinking Invictus-verse, but whatever you feel like!

Yennefer comes in the front door as quietly as she can, toeing off her shoes and setting them down with painful precision on the rack, hanging her purse on its designated hook and putting her keys into the bowl so gently that they don’t even clink.

She moves like a ghost into the house, slipping past the kitchen where Vesemir and Mignole are bickering cheerfully, up the stairs and down the hall, all without making a sound.

If she makes a sound, Ciri will hear it, and as much as she loves her daughter, right now Yennefer doesn’t think she can cope with the bright eagerness of Ciri’s enthusiasm.

She almost groans aloud when she opens the bedroom door to find Jaskier putting away clothes, humming to himself as he works. Gods, she isn’t sure she can cope with Jaskier, either. Geralt, maybe - he’s good at being quiet - but Jaskier is light and color and movement and sound.

He’s also one of the most empathetic people she’s ever met, under all the seemingly feckless behavior, insightful and observant and capable of keeping secrets utterly private. Which is why their odd three-cornered relationship actually works - because he can read her and Geralt like books, and know exactly what they need.

He turns before she can close the door again, and when he sees her he stops humming. “Oh, Yen,” he says, softly enough that she can barely hear it. “Bad day?”

Yennefer nods.

“C’mere,” Jaskier says gently, opening his arms.

Yennefer forgets, sometimes, that Jaskier is actually almost as tall and broad as Geralt is. He dresses to look like a fucking twink, and he’s good at it. But when she stumbles into his arms, he catches her without any trouble, and wraps her up in a hug so tight and warm she wants to live in it.

“Bad day?” Jaskier murmurs.

“Lost the fucking case,” Yennefer mumbles, muffled against his chest. She knew she was likely to lose - her client did not give her a lot to work with - but she hates losing, and she hates it more when she’s pretty damn sure that it’s going to have nasty consequences for the children in the divorcing household.

“Aw, love,” Jaskier says, and then thank fuck doesn’t add any stupid platitudes, just holds her tight and rocks them back and forth, humming a slow sweet tune deep in his chest.

Yennefer feels herself relaxing inch by inch, slumping against Jaskier and letting him take her weight.

“Let’s get you into a hot shower, love,” Jaskier says at last. Yennefer mumbles something that’s meant to be affirmative. Jaskier steers her step by careful step into the bedroom and undresses her with gentle hands, then turns the shower on as hot as it will go, just the way she prefers it. She steps into the spray with a grateful sigh.

When she finally emerges, feeling drained but also as though the hot water has washed much of her misery away, Geralt and Jaskier are both waiting for her on the bed, wearing soft pajama pants and nothing else. “Ciri’s with Da and Stepmum for the night,” Geralt rumbles, and beckons Yennefer into the middle. Both of them curl around her as she settles down between them. One of Geralt’s rough hands strokes over her hair; Jaskier tucks his head against her shoulder and starts humming again.

Neither of them asks any questions, or demands anything of her, or makes any noise louder than Jaskier’s humming.

Yennefer closes her eyes and lets herself be held.

(Or HERE on AO3!)

[thedemonofcat]

Over the years, Jaskier has been reincarnated many times, and in most of these lives, Geralt has managed to find him. With Yennefer’s magic, Jaskier is able to regain the memories of their past together.

Geralt has begun collecting photos and memorabilia from their shared decades, cherishing the fragments of their long history.

However, in this life, Jaskier and Geralt cross paths after a fateful date. When Jaskier visits Geralt's house, he stumbles upon a collection of photographs—of himself. Lacking the memories of their past, Jaskier is convinced that Geralt is nothing more than an obsessive stalker.

[yenneferblog]

YENNEFER OF VENGERBERG in THE WITCHER, SEASON 3 Showrunner Lauren Hissrich tells EW she received a lot of feedback from viewers about Yennefer's acts last season. "'How could you do that to these characters?' 'They'll never be able to forgive her.' Well, that just becomes a story problem for us," she says. "How do two characters forgive each other?" Her mind immediately went to Beltane, a festival during which both Yen and Ciri were born. Viewers will see the enchantress' "romantic reconnections" with Geralt play out here, Hissrich teases. Chalotra also makes note of a familiar black dress that Yen is wearing in this moment — the same garb she wore during the character's first meeting with the White Wolf. "She wouldn't have put that on for no reason," the actress says. Given Baltane is a fertility festival, she adds, "That's enough of a hint." "We're in it now. We're in the thick of the story," says Chalotra, who mentions the third season is "a lot more politically driven." "We get a lot more magic this season, and I was excited for that because I don't think we've seen enough of it," she adds. "Also the movements of magic, which have evolved for Yennefer. We put a lot of Indian dance and movements into this, because we wanted to be specific and for magic to be more placed. We were looking into ways we could do that and make it more personal." Speaking to Yennefer's past sins, Chalotra points out that, "She puts a lot of time and energy and effort into making it up to them at the beginning of season 3. That quite quickly and quite organically evolves into a real family dynamic."

[mlm-writer]

Old Friend (Geralt x GN!Reader)

Pairing:  Show!Geralt of Rivia x Gender Neutral Reader (can be interpreted as platonic or romantic) Rating: Mature Words: 1670 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 21 - “I did what I had to do to protect those I love… I had no choice!” Note: Don't @ me for still posting things that were supposed to come out in October. Tags: angst, mention of Ciri & Yennefer, ft. Jaskier & Milva, murder and dark magic

Everyone would agree that Ciri was an unlucky girl with a life tainted by tragedy. Every time you spoke with her about her past, you felt a little pang in your heart. However, sometimes you envied her. The way Geralt reserved his warmest of smiles for his charge, the way the most powerful sorceress spent her time teaching Ciri and the power Ciri possessed sometimes made you feel like she was, in some way, a very lucky girl. 

You spent life on the run with Ciri, Geralt and Yennefer. Most of the time you felt like you were family, sometimes you felt like an extra, an unnecessary weight, but no one told you to leave. You had nothing to teach Ciri that Geralt and Yennefer couldn’t. They had it covered from sword to spells to alchemy. 

Then things kept going to shit and before you knew it, Geralt was flirting with death and Ciri was missing. You wanted to go find her, but Yennefer insisted you stayed with Geralt. “You can heal anything!” Geralt exclaimed as you exhausted yourself once more. He was capable of loud verbal abuse. You should’ve counted that as a win, but it was hard to, when Geralt was still bed-bound. 

“I’m doing everything I can!” You yelled back. Milva entered, her hand landing on your shoulder. It has been the same song over and over again ever since Jaskier revealed Ciri was on her way to Nilfgaard. Geralt proceeded to demand more of you. Milva forced you out. Jaskier was waiting for you with a brew of herbs that would help you recover your strength. “I’m really doing everything I can,” you sobbed by the fire. 

Jaskier put his arm around you, comforting you the best he could. “I know. He knows. He is just… Geralt.” You leaned against the bard, letting his body’s warmth seep into yours. You sat by the fire until it got dark. Jaskier eventually let you be to mull over your thoughts in peace. When you had the strength you used your magic on those that did appreciate it. You were weak, but even a little was for many enough to pull their foot out of the grave. 

Exhaustion gnawed at your bones. Your muscles felt like they were weighed down by the state of the world. You took a stroll out of the camp, trying to avoid Jaskier and Milva. They meant well, but their words were not enough to distract you from the power you lacked. 

When the lights of the camp were far behind you, you stopped walking. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, knees colliding with the muddy ground of the forest. From a secret pocket sewn into the coat you’ve had for over two decades, you procured an amulet you haven’t worn since you met Geralt all those years ago. The deep red gem reflected the light of the moon onto your eyes. Deep within the stone you could see an old friend. You promised Geralt you’d throw this trinket away; you promised you would never give in to temptation again, but despair had forced you quite literally to your knees. You clenched the charm tightly in your fist. “All is fair in love and war,” you whispered as you stared down at your fist, noticing how red light seeped between your fingers. “These are times of war and… I love him.”

Those words spoken aloud strengthened your resolve. You closed your eyes as you put the thin golden chain over your head, letting the amulet fall right where your heart was. As soon as that metal hit your chest, you felt an old friend occupying your mind once more. “I always knew you’d come back,” it told you. It gave you visions of how to help Geralt. The methods dancing on the grey moral spectrum, but led by these visions, you made your way back to the camp. You entered the tents of the sleeping patients you had helped earlier. You touched those that you didn’t think would make it to the morning. Their life force entered through your fingertips. They breathed their final breath. You felt the weak energy pooling together. One tent, two, three, you passed though the whole camp, taking what you needed from those that were not likely to hold onto it for long anyway. Each time you took, darkness rose to your skin, revealing your deeds in the night. 

Your veins had turned black by the time you entered the final tent. Geralt was fast asleep as well, too injured to even hear you entering, too unwell to open his eyes and ask you what you were doing there. A black tear rolled down your cheek as you placed your hand on his chest and let go of all the energy you had collected. The life energy of the people that died that night flowed from your chest down to your fingertips. In his sleep, Geralt inhaled deeply as the energy filled him. It only took a moment, but it felt like an eternity as you felt the weight of the lives you took to save the one most dear to you. 

When you were devoid of all the energy but your own, you collapsed on the ground, legs too tired to keep you up. You took deep breaths, trying to avoid looking at your hands. However, in the end you just needed to know how bad things were. You raised your palms, the sight - though expected - still horrifying. Your skin had blackened from the dark magic. Your hands felt fine though. “You did well. This is only the beginning of what we can achieve. You’re meant to take what you please,” the old friend’s voice echoed through your skull. The words were reassuring, but you knew all too well where things could lead. You reached for the amulet, ready to rip it off you. “You need me. Without me you’re useless. You can’t protect the ones you love.” 

Geralt had you once believe otherwise, but it only took one glance towards him to show you where his faith in you had led him to. Even the great White Wolf could be wrong sometimes. Defeated, you slowly let go of the amulet, allowing it to occupy its old spot. “Everything will be fine. You will be fine,” the being spoke through the amulet to you. You had heard those words a million times from Jaskier, but only now did they actually soothe you. 

The next morning you woke up from stirring on the bed. You hadn’t dared to leave the tent and slept on a chair. “Geralt,” you whispered, aware of your surroundings the moment your ears picked up on the rustling of blankets. You forgot what you looked like, immediately rising from the chair and joining Geralt at his side. You inspected the wound on his leg, but it was not there anymore, a new scar adorning his skin. 

Your eyes didn’t meet Geralt’s until he sat up on his own. “What did you do?” His voice dripped of venom. You lifted your head to meet his yellow eyes, darkened by the deeply furrowed eyebrows. Your throat felt tight, so tight that not a single syllable could make it through to the cold space between you and the Witcher. He called your name and reached out. You were frozen in place as his calloused fingers traced the black marks on your face. “What did you do?” He repeated the question, emphasising each word with urgency. 

Black tears pooled in your eyes, the first few already rolling down your cheeks by the time you found your voice once more. “I did what I had to do to protect those I love…” You swallowed a lump in your throat. “I had no choice.” Your voice trembled, each word shaking more than the previous one. 

Geralt was visibly seething as he grabbed your arm, his grip tight. “What did you do?” He demanded, voice booming in the small space. You tried to free yourself. 

“Geralt, please, you’re hurting me!” “Say it!” 

He knew you. He knew you from the moment he met you. He knew the person you could be once you gave up on your ‘old friend’. He knew what you did then and he knew what you did last night. He knew, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to have mistaken that familiar amulet around your neck. However, things were exactly as it seemed and just like things never changed, Jaskier and Milva came in right on que. 

Jaskier called out for Geralt, tried to calm him. He immediately commented on how he seemed to be better, proceeded to ask how. Meanwhile, Milva freed you of Geralt’s grip. A crowd had formed at the entrance, but you couldn’t see anyone in the room but Geralt. “How many have died tonight?” Geralt demanded to know, Jaskier and Milva now in between you two. They tried to calm him. “How many?” He roared. 

His fury eventually ripped the answer out of you. “I don’t know! I only took from those that were not likely to make it to the morning anyway.” 

“Jaskier…” Geralt’s voice was quieter now he got his answer from you. He turned to the bard. “How many people died tonight?” Jaskier turned to Milva, hoping she held the answer. 

“42,” she spoke with surprising steadiness. She then looked at you, shaming you with her eyes alone. She was not the only one who despised your existence after that night. Jaskier pleaded for your life, then left with Geralt to find Ciri. You had to go your own way, fend for yourself once more. If it wasn’t for your aching heart, it was like you never met the Witcher at all. He never wanted to see you again, but even as you walked with your backs facing each other, you felt like you would see him again. It was a funny thing… destiny. 

—————

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[catscraftsandcommentary]

I need Lambert/Milena in a Shrek AU.

Just imagine with me:

Duke de Roggeven insults a powerful wizard (we all know he would - he'd be lucky if it was only ONE) who then curses his daughters. All three of them.

(ETA: he pissed off Yennefer. Probably insulted her mixed elven heritage and/or her inability to have kids, so she went "alright. Let's see how you feel when YOUR daughters are inhuman and infertile monsters.")

By night, each of them transforms into a different non-human humanoid: Marta is a succubus (all her lust for power and a crown turned into a different kind of lust - and we'll pretend that succubi *can* live without sex, but they feel sick and hungry the whole time), Marika is an elf (still elegant and pretty, but inhuman enough to shock everyone - Marika didn't piss off Yennefer), and Milena is a witcher (Yennefer saw her strength and kindness and went "this suits you.")

Marta, of course, spends the entire time being FURIOUS at being some "sex obsessed half goat! I am the daughter of a DUKE! The ELDEST DAUGHTER! How dare she!" Marika isn't happy, per se, but she privately goes "it could be a LOT worse. I'll take it." Milena actually enjoys her new abilities - she's so strong! Her senses are much sharper! - and the eyes are rather pretty.

After being COMPLETELY HORRIFIED that his daughters (well, mostly Marta) are cursed to become non-humans by night, Duke de Roggeven locks them in a castle guarded by a dragon and then pretends that he's sent them abroad to stay with distant relatives.

Meanwhile, Marta is getting on EVERYONE'S last nerve with her constant bitching, Marika is trying to keep their lifestyle as pleasant as possible, and Milena...

Milena befriends the dragon. She thinks Villentretenmerth is fascinating, and when she learns that the three ladies who showed up to help the sisters are also dragons, she wants to learn as much as they can teach her.

(Marta refuses to acknowledge any of them. "I will not consort with beasts," she sniffs hautily, and locks herself in a private bedroom every night before sunset.)

So! Back in Redania, Duke de Roggeven has convinced everyone that Yennefer's line about "whoever breaks the curse will gain a treasure greater than gold or gems" means that they can gain literal treasure (and/or magical treasure) by rescuing and marrying his daughters, and not - to take an example COMPLETELY at random - their true love as a bride.

(Yes, true love is the cure. Of course it is.)

So the asshole king of Kaedwen hears about the supposed princess and holds a huge tournament - and Lambert shows up because "that fucker dumped a bunch of refugees in our mountains, the fucking bastard. Who does that?!"

Jaskier, being one of the refugees - and also a bard who can sense the potential for a good story - insists on coming with him. They 100% do the "Donkey won't stop singing until Shrek snaps at him to shut up - and then he hums" scene.

About five times.

(Geralt and Eskel either stayed home to help Vesemir manage the refugees or hang around the Kaedweni court to remind the king of his promise - and make sure he doesn't get any even WORSE ideas.)

(Lambert REFUSED to stay in Kaer Morhen when Vesemir was being bossy - "I get enough of him riding my damn ass during fucking winter, NO GODSDAMNED WAY." And his brothers very sensibly refused to let him stay in court longer than absolutely necessary because, uh, they've MET Lambert and they know exactly how badly it would go. So he gets rescue duty by default. At least the princess will be happy to get to Ard Carraigh and away from him. They send Jaskier with him to try to temper some of his, uh, Lambert-ness.)

Anyway! Lambert and Jaskier arrive at the tumbledown castle guarded by a dragon, and Jaskier is immediately like "oh how wonderful! How majestic! Look at that wingspan!" And Lambert is like "...remember how we're here to fight the bastard? We have to GET PAST HIM to rescue whatever noble bint got stuck out here."

Jaskier pouts.

Villentretenmerth finds all this terribly amusing, especially since he recognizes a witcher when he sees one. So he sticks his nose in their camp and asks (rumbles) "what makes you think that even a witcher can defeat the greatest and oldest of dragonkind?"

So Jaskier introduces them - as dramatically and fancily as possible - and states that they are here to rescue the princess.

Milena creeps out from Villentretenmerth's wing. "We are the daughters of the Duke de Roggeven, and there are three of us. I hope you will still take us home?"

Villentretenmerth sighs. This girl. Always getting underfoot. "I will let you take the ladies with you - but you must convince them to leave freely. If they refuse - now or later - I will take them back."

"He sent THREE girls to some remote fucking castle? Fucker. Yeah, I'll take you all. Jask, let's find 'em and get out of here."

So Milena leads them up to the tallest tower where her sisters spend their day. I can't decide if I want Marta to do the whole "sleeping beauty waiting for a kiss" thing (assuming that JASKIER is her princely rescuer and Lambert is just there as a guard.) If she does, she'll get a rude surprise when Lambert shakes her awake and tells her to pack anything she's taking with her, they're LEAVING.

So the guys get the ladies and lead them out - pretending to ignore the hissing and squabbling that said ladies are doing behind the men's backs - and are unhappily surprised AGAIN because not only are their rescuer(s) NOT a prince and his retinue, they don't even have HORSES.

The dragons, of course, are watching this with amusement...and no little relief at getting rid of Miss Complainer the Eldest.

I'm gonna say it takes less than two days for Marta and Lambert to have a truly nasty fight. She wants a horse. A private carriage, really, but she'll SETTLE for a horse. Purebred, obviously. And fashionable new dresses, and BATHS, and food cooked in an actual KITCHEN, and a private bedroom from sundown to sunrise, and...

Lambert is just like "look lady, I don't get any reward until I deliver you, I don't have the coin for any of that, and I wouldn't waste on stupid fucking luxuries if I did."

This does not go over well. At all. There are very angry words shouted about his lack of preparation, decorum, breeding, proper dress...the list is endless.

Lambert gives exactly zero shits.

Milena is watching the fight with interest - she finds him FASCINATING - and Marika is mostly trying to stay out of it. She agrees with Marta on most of the points - their tower-castle was reasonably comfortable, certainly more so than this long hike back to civilization - but also, freedom.

If only they were returning home instead of to a strange country...

Which is about when Villentretenmerth - as the human Borsch - walks into their camp, accompanied by the three dragon woman who have been tending to the sisters. "Marchionesses. Wolf. Bard. I warned you I would take the ladies back if they wished to leave your company."

"The TOWER is better than staying with this BARBARIAN," Marta sniffs. "And Father arranged for marriages for Marika and I already!"

(She knows she gets the crown prince - and she knows that Kaedwen's king is a murderous asshole. Being queen doesn't count if she's not alive to enjoy it...and she won't have allies there to help her plot regicide. She's ambitious, not stupid.)

Somehow, it works out that Borsch and his friends take Marta and Marika back while Lambert and Jaskier continue to Kaedwen with Milena. There is ABSOLUTELY a scene where Lambert is out hunting when bandits try to attack the supposedly unguarded noblewoman and bard, and Milena thoroughly kicks their ass.

Lambert runs back just in time to be HELLA aroused impressed at Milena. Jaskier is already composing an ode to her.

They arrive at Ard Carraigh. Stuck up knights send for the king, who pretends he's a decent person long enough to carry Milena off on a fancy horse. Half an hour later, just as Lambert is moping about losing his new friend, his brothers arrive and go "quick, where's the lady? We have to get out her out of here!"

A very confusing but short explanation-argument later, Eskel and Geralt are chasing after Lambert as he storms the royal palace BY HIMSELF, because like hell will he leave Milena to that monster!

The confrontation is absolutely the most dramatic thing Ard Carraigh has seen in decades, with the witchers storming in just after Milena is crowned but before she can kiss her new husband...

...whom Lambert immediately punches in the face. "HOW MANY WOMEN HAVE YOU KILLED?!? HOW MANY, ASSHOLE? Did you even bother to COUNT THEM?"

Everyone gasps. Eskel and Geralt keep the guards back with drawn swords.

"NO MORE! I *WILL NOT* let you murder Milena for your sick fucking games!"

The king tries to splutter something, but Lambert takes his head off before he can get it out.

And then the sun sets.

And Milena...changes.

Scars from her training with the dragons, greater muscles than any noblewoman should have, and her eyes...

She shrieks - not at the king's death or the witchers' violence, but at her own secret coming out. She's hidden it for so long, and so carefully...she'll never survive this. The Kaedweni court will turn her out, if they don't execute her with her (very briefly) husband -

And then Lambert takes her hand.

"Milena? Are you...okay? Did they hurt you? What happened?"

"I'm CURSED! My sisters and I are cursed - for years now!"

He looks at her. "Y'look fine to me. It suits you."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't lie to you. Never have, never will. And I think you look - good. Really good. The dress is kinda silly - "

Milena giggles. She thought the same thing, when her maids were lacing and buttoning her into the massive thing.

"But YOU are gorgeous. Always have been."

"You still like me? Even..."

"As mutated and scarred up as I am? I'd have to be a fool not to. You're the bravest, strongest, most amazing woman I've ever met."

And she kisses him. She has to, can't hold it back.

(Cue the curse breaking - and leaving her as a witcher.)

Obviously there's cleanup, but Milena IS the queen, and is suddenly betrothed to the man who killed the murderous previous king - so it works out.

And then Villentretenmerth comes back.

[headcanonthings]

Yennefer: Yo dumbass, get over here.

Geralt: Okay-

Jaskier: *gleefully runs past* I’m coming!

Geralt, sadly: I thought... I was dumbass...

[holylulusworld]

Broken Rose (2)

Summary: He may have stolen your kingdom and freedom – but he’ll never own your heart. Right?

Pairing: Alpha!Geralt of Rivia x Queen(Omega)!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of forced/arranged marriage trope, a/b/o, magic, mentions of character’s death

Broken Rose masterlist

Broken Rose (1)

“You won’t walk away from me like that, omega!” Geralt calls after you. He’s walking faster to catch up with you. “I told you to stop.”

“You conquered these lands, and the castle, but I am still the queen of this kingdom. Someone must look out for the people who are not under your spell! The knights only listen to your command and don’t care for my people any longer.”

“I did not say that.” Geralt’s features darken. “Your knights follow their usual routine. The only difference is that I forced them to accept me as their king and alpha.”

“You promised me to free them!” You twirl around to glare at Geralt. “You lied! Just like back then, you lied!”

“I did not lie back then!” He yells back. “I wanted to court you! I asked your father for your hand, and the honor to claim you. I wasn’t good enough!”

“You’re a liar! I know you left to whore around with that witch,” you sneer at him. “What was her name?”

“This doesn’t…” He grits his teeth. “I was with her to gain more powers. It was the only way! She meant nothing to me!”

“She meant enough to you to fuck her!” You raise your voice, and walls start to shake. “Do not lie to me!”

“What are you doing?” Geralt watches you with darkened eyes. “Stop this! I will force you into submission if you don’t stop angering me.”

“Yennefer, that was her name,” you step closer to Geralt to run your hand over his chest. He follows the motion, wondering what you are up to. “Did you never question her disappearance?”

You laugh darkly when his stoic mask slips for a moment. Worry flashes in his eyes for a second. “Y/N, stop talking about the past.”

“Did she mean so little to you that you don’t care if she’s dead or alive?” You coo the words, a smile on your lips. “Did you not call her your love too?” You lean closer to whisper in his ear. “Or did you lie to her too?”

“How’d you find out about Yennefer?” He watches you walk around the room, fingertips sliding over the bust of your father. “Y/N! How did you find out about her?”

Geralt raises his voice. Yennefer was close to winning his heart over. He almost forgot about his plan to get you back and take over your kingdom.

She was a sly witch. Yennefer enchanted him with her beauty and magic, almost breaking his resolve to never give his heart to anyone else. 

“Father,” you place your hand onto the bust, tapping your fingers. “I pleaded with him. One last time I tried to convince him that a bond between you and me would strengthen our kingdom.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can be very convincing,” you push the bust off its rightful place, watching it crack into two halves. “Father was almost convinced.” You dip your head and smirk. “That was, of course, until he found out about your wench.”

“I—” He swallows thickly. Geralt you can be hard, and unforgiving. “What did you do?”

“I accepted a bond with his friend’s son, a prince,” you walk toward the next bust showing your father at a younger age. “A nasty man who only wanted one thing.” This time you punch the bust, making it tumble and fall to the ground. 

“Let me guess,” Geralt steps toward the next bust. He gently runs his hand over it, admiring the handiwork. “He wanted to tame you.”

“All men want to tame a woman,” you step next to Geralt to look at the bust of your younger self. “He’s not alone.”

“…and they failed. One, after another,” Gerald muses. “Like your knights when they tried to stop me. They fell. One, by one, by one.”

“They didn’t fall,” you snap and turn your attention toward the last bust. The one they made shortly before your father passed away. “You used your magic. This has nothing to do with strength or talent.” 

“Strength, talent, magic,” he shrugs while circling you like prey. “It doesn’t matter, Y/N. In the end, they were weak and let it happen. You on the other hand,” his eyes glow when he looks at you again. “Still nothing. I cannot enchant you with my powers. Even if I wanted to.”

You cock your head, mirroring his smirk. “Did you ever wonder why?”

“Your will is too strong,” he replies. “You inherit a different kind of magic deep within your soul. A magic so strong that it cannot be broken by my powers. 

“Back to your lover,” you push against the last bust, watching it shatter on the ground. “Do you miss her?” 

“Y/N let’s not talk about the past. We have a future to build. I want these lands to grow and blossom. At the moment, it’s rotten and not fruitful.”

“Like your seed,” you smirk darkly, knowing about the price Geralt paid for his powers. “It’s rotten, just like your wench’s womb. Isn’t it?”

“What happened to her?” Geralt watches you caress your mother’s bust. “Y/N, what happened to her?”

“She paid the price for conspiring with my father to make me forget about you,” you chuckle darkly. “Imagine her surprise when her powers did nothing for her. She was powerless while facing me.”

“She conspired with your father. This cannot be true,” he shakes his head. Geralt is proud of his sharp mind, and his talent to see through any lie. “No.”

You kiss your mother’s bust and sigh. While she was still around, your father was a different man. He would’ve never tricked you into marrying another man than Geralt.

“I was surprised too, Geralt. I heard rumors and believed you simply found a better mate,” your voice cracks. “Imagine my surprise when the very same woman came to collect on my wedding day.”

“Wedding day?” Geralt gasps. “No. You’re not married! You’re my queen, no one else’s!”

“I didn’t say I got married,” you chuckle darkly as you grab his hand to place it onto your heart. “Can you feel this? This heart got broken one too many times. I’ve had enough and took matters into my hands.”

“Y/N, what did you do?” 

“What had to be done,” you hold his hand in a tight grip. “He denied me my future so…”

“So…” Geralt furrows his brows, already knowing he answer.

“I took his…”

Tags in reblog.

[limerental]

ficletvember 2024 - day 12

yennskier post-s2 yucky tender gooiness

Having grown unexpectedly close in the winter spent at Kaer Morhen, Yennefer comes to a realization while in bed one morning with Jaskier.

That morning, Yennefer wakes to the sunrise warming the cold stone walls. The wind whistles through the narrow windows and the dingy old keep creaks and settles, but her bed is piled in furs and she has no obligation to rise and there is a warm body burrowed down beside her, his cheek against her bare shoulder.

Jaskier twitches in sleep, mumbling incoherently, never wholly silent even while unconscious. His messy hair tickles her neck, grown long, and he’s drooling on her from the corner of his open mouth. 

Something about that makes Yennefer feel fond rather than disgusted. She wants to press her fingers back through his tangled hair and kiss him awake, wants to push down the furs to reveal more of his body, her other hand stealing down through the dark hair on his belly. 

She wants to let him sleep a while longer, knowing that lately he’s been plagued by nightmares and bouts of insomnia after everything that happened the past months. He passes off the sleeplessness as bouts of creative fervor, staying up in Kaer Morhen’s dusty library writing drivel in his songbook. Most nights, she stays up with him, offering droll commentary and scathing critique. 

More than once, she’s dozed off in a high-backed chair in the library and woken to found that he’s carried her to bed, wrapped around her with his lips against her neck.

She spends most days in his company, both of them unclear where else they're meant to fit in the keep. The Witchers avoid her, Geralt won’t meet her eyes, and Ciri is curious and friendly enough but overly polite, never asking the questions she really wants to.

Yennefer suffers also nightmares, dark and churning and unspeakable, and every morning, she reaches to pull at a thread of chaos. Just to be certain that she still can.

Jaskier’s nightmares are often of fire and blood, shackled at the wrists while the flames climb the rafters overhead, broken fingers clawing at a locked door. Sometimes when Yennefer slips into his dreams to momentarily soothe them into something more pleasant, she sees herself with blood spilling down her slit wrists, feels the yawning fear that hollows his stomach. 

At present, his dreams are a fumble of disjointed images, some erotic and some comical with a bizarre overlap between the two. He mumbles something about sphincters and then ducks and his brows furrow, and Yennefer feels a strong and alarming surge of irrational affection for this ridiculous man sleeping beside. 

It makes little sense for the realization to come at that moment. That she loves him. Has fallen in love with him. Despite all his varied flaws or perhaps because of them. His simple, unfettered humanity. His baffling aesthetic choices. His constant whining and waffling. His heart, deep and compassionate and always aching a little. His cheeky lewd stupidity and his sincere and cliched candor.

Yennefer loves him.

It’s an unpleasant feeling, rising like acid reflux, because of course, realizing how she feels changes nothing. 

Jaskier couldn’t possibly love her back, not after everything, not being who they are. They’ve tumbled into this arrangement out of circumstance, leaning on each other for comfort and warmth through the long winter on the mountain, but this certainly isn’t his first choice. She’s seen his more pleasant dreams. The ones that span years with Geralt before she met either of them, the achey familiarity of years-long yearning fulfilled, all the right words said, all the old hurts soothed.

And if not Geralt, given the choice of any number of bedpartners across the Continent, would Jaskier ever possibly choose to wake beside her most mornings, the way she’d like to wake beside him.

The truth is that Yennefer is an afterthought, an unexpected pleasure that he’ll indulge in until spring, and then their paths will draw apart, and the cold isolation of her long and lonely life will sink back in again.

Jaskier wakes with his usual suddenness, snorting an interrupted breath, eyes blinking open as he scrunches up his whole face against the light. 

“Heh? Hughhg?” he grunts incoherently and then immediately begins to chatter. “Did I sleep in? Have we missed breakfast? Not missing much I suppose but– I just had the strangest dream about these massive waterfowl on a beautiful lake, and not gonna lie it got me going a-- Eh? Yennefer, why d’you look like that?”

“I don’t look like anything,” she says and rolls away from him, not wanting to know what face she’d been making as he woke.

Jaskier takes the opportunity to sling an arm around her waist and press his warm chest to her back, tangling their legs together as he kisses her shoulder. Not long ago, she may have balked at such open presumption that she would welcome his smothering embrace, but she does welcome it, she craves it. She turns her head to let him kiss her on the mouth, and he rolls his hips in a slow grind against her backside.

“You are not fucking me while thinking about large ducks,” she groans against his lips, feeling his very foolish thoughts pressed into her mind.

“It’s– they were alarmingly erotic!”

“Think about something else,” says Yennefer, and though she doesn’t usually like to impose herself so completely into another’s mind, wary of what she’ll find there, she allows her vulnerable fears to guide her into his thoughts.

Jaskier is thinking about the softness of her hair against his cheek, the scent of her, the sleep-warm feel of her body against his. He thinks how he’d like to wake every morning like this, how it would be enough just to hold her in his arms, to let his arousal fade to distant noise as he noses at her neck.

She hitches up a leg and reaches behind her to grip his hip and draw him to enter her, and his thoughts erupt in a slew of praises, not just for the heat of her cunt but for her raw and visceral beauty, her sharp edges, her pain, her desperate kindness. 

Yennefer feels small as his thoughts wash over her, battered by waves of longing, desire, and through it all a current of she can’t possibly feel this strongly toward little old me.

Idiots, both of them.

“Yen?” Jaskier asks, voice unsteady with alarm, and she realizes that she’s weeping, hot tears rolling to tremble on the ridge of her nose.

“I’m in love with you, you absolute fool,” says Yennefer and immediately wants to hide her burning, tear-streaked face in the pillows and pretend she hadn’t blurted that confession out so simply. 

Jaskier’s hips still.

“Really? Me?”

“No, I enjoy embarrassing myself and lying,” she says, frustrated. “Yes, you.”

“Oh.” An absent hand trails down her belly and back up. Lips mouth against the back of her neck. He resumes rocking up into her body with shallow rolls of his hips. “So would you call this love-making then? Given that I love you back, you wretched witch.”

His voice is hideously fond, his touch gentle, his thoughts a rush of warm elation.

“Call it whatever you’d like,” she says, hoping that he ignores how her voice breaks. She lets a hand fall on his backside with a smack. “Just get on with it.”

Jaskier proceeds to do so for the rest of the morning, brimming with giddy energy, all thoughts of nightmares forgotten by the both of them.

[astaldis]

Witcher Cat Fics

Do you like cats and The Witcher? Then maybe you'll also like Witcher cat fics! (sorry, not Cat Witcher fics). Here is a little list of fics I found that feature cats, but it's certainly not complete. If you know of other Witcher fanfics where a cat plays an important role in the plot, please let me know so I can add it to the list.

Have fun with cats and Witchers!

(The order is totally random)

5 Times Someone Else Had To Watch The Damn Cat

Foltest, Ves, Geralt of Rivia, Iorveth, Silas of the Blue Stripes, G, 500 words:

Five times someone else had to watch Roche's cat.

It's the latest in a series of drabbles about Roche's cat: Kits Out for Temeria by Faetality, check it out, it's so funny!

The Sorceress' Challenge by Annaatemychocolate

Yennefer/Triss, F/F, 11,485 words:

“The Sorceress Yennefer has set a challenge: capture her black cat and retrieve the key around its neck before the end of the month, and you get your wish granted. That’s why everyone’s here.”

Triss’ eyebrows were now dangerously close to disappearing into her hairline. “You’re not serious.”

flowers in every room by SummerFrost

Geralt/Yennefer, Ciri, F/M, 5,077 words:

Hey, Mum! Sorry, I can't stay long, there's this—" Ciri tilts her head. "What's with the cat?"

"Fuck if I know," says Yen.

Aka: The one where Geralt gets turned into a cat and dumped on Yennefer's doorstep.

Here Kitty, Kitty by round_robin

Geralt & Jaskier, Gen, 1,671 words: “Cats don't like—you can't be serious.” Geralt said nothing and Jaskier gasped. “Of all the weird fucking things they did to you, that takes the cake.”

This got a small chuckle. “Oh yes? The heightened senses that bring headaches if I'm in a town too long, the poison tolerance that still hurts like I'm dying, but no, cats hissing at me is clearly the worst...”

Of Wolves and Cats by A_hopeful_disaster

Geralt &/ Jaskier, Gen, 1,353 words: Jaskier adopts a cat. Geralt isnt sure what to think.

The Mystical Divinity of Unashamed Felinity by Star_dancer54

Geralt & Jaskier, Gen, 2,778 words: It's a morning like any other when Geralt wakes up, until he discovers that Jaskier's been turned into a cat. (unfinished)

The Way to a Man's Heart Goes Through His... Cat? by Frywen

Geralt /Jaskier, Cirilla, Yennefer , M/M, 16,861 words: Jaskier is a live-in cat sitter and Roach is the biggest and meanest cat he has ever met. Just what kind of owner does a cat like that have? (unfinished)

Ball of Purr by kentucka

Geralt, Gen, 1,211 words: A fluffy little thing (pun intended) in which Geralt gets to pet a cat.

Cat Got Your Tongue (But I’ve Got Your Heart) by WanderingDrui

Aiden/Lambert, Geralt/Jaskier, M/M, 31,093 words: After the mountain Jaskier throws caution to the winds and decides to use a secret he's kept his entire life to get back at Geralt. He expects a short and petty journey of revenge. Instead he makes new witcher friends, explores his past, and finds peace with who he is and what he wants in life. Meanwhile, Geralt hasn't heard anything about Jaskier since he sent him away and is growing worried.... (WIP)

Lovecats by Lula_Claims_The_Snakeskin_Jacket

Cahir/Yennefer, F/M, 16,404 words: Cahir and Yennefer acquire a stray cat. Or does the cat acquire them? As a witch, Yennefer vibes with cats well. Cahir is sceptical, as to his best knowledge cats are of no use on the battlefield. Obviously, some tensions are inevitable here. But this relationship will, yes, evolve.

powerful by mayoho

Rience, Gen, 100 words: Rience has always been drawn to power, even in the most unexpected places.

Figs and black pepper by calvaria

Assire var Anahid, Merlin (the cat), Gen, 233 words: Assire prefers Merlin to all astrolabes, signs and pendulums.

Cat Comfort by Molanna

Cahir, Assire var Anahid, Merlin (the cat), Gen, 1,805 words: Merlin is not only suddenly brought to a different place by his Witch, but, when he comes back to the apartment late at night from exploring the new garden, he finds a stranger in the bed he is not sure how to feel about at first. (POV Merlin)

A Furry Foundling for the Bard by Molanna

Jaskier/Radovid, M/M, 1,111 words: Jaskier and Radovid are disturbed in their very enjoyable nightly activity by a strange, eerie sound. Luckily, what they find in the street is not a monster but a pleasant surprise.

A Fiery Night by Molanna

Jaskier/Radovid, M/M, 500 words: Jaskier and Radovid are having a great time together at Radovid's little island cottage. Unfortunately, one night, something goes very wrong.

Cat-Napping by Molanna

Rience, Gen, 500 words: Unexpectedly and totally against his will, Rience ends up with a fluffy tabby cat napping in his lap.

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 3

Propaganda Under Cut

Casca

She is part of a weird fucked up love triangle with two dudes. All three of them are honestly kind of terrible for each other but she gets shoved aside in favor of the two dudes in most fics and is not allowed to grow past the toxic relationships of her past. Also she’s a cis woman who dresses pretty masculinely (because she’s in a mercenary band) so she gets type casted as the mean lesbian friend, when she’s straight in canon

I've seen more than one Yaoi Shipper say that Casca should have died during this one big canon event as opposed to being assaulted by one of the people in the Yaoi Ship, which of course conveniently would remove her from the narrative and as an obstacle to said Yaoi Ship. Aside from that specifically, though, I think it's particularly cruel to imply that being killed is a better outcome than being a victim of SA, and is an example of the contempt fandom on the whole has for female characters who act traumatized - particularly when both male characters in the ship have similar trauma and its never implied they should have died rather than be assaulted.

She's an incredibly interesting character in her own right with really good dynamics and parallels to Griffith and Guts, and the way those three play off of each other is integral to the story, but most of what I've seen completely ignores her in favor of focusing on only Griffith and Guts

Yennefer

Constantly villainized because one way or another she gets in the way of a MLM ship (though at least one of them would probably be fine with a poly relationship). In the show version of her, her love interest bound her to him via magic, never told her until someone else brought it up despite it the bond causing them to meet over and over, her love interest didn’t understand why this upset her and brushed it off and still has never apologized for it because apparently it was the only way to save her life, she had better chemistry with Jaskier (the other half of the MLM ship) and had a semi-decent rivals to frenemies thing going on, the show took away her powers (which never happened in the books) to have her go on a pointless quest to get them back that worsened her relationship with her love interest because they had her try to kill her love interest’s adopted child (which now justifies why he doesn’t need to apologize of course), and all of that was after she’d already had an arc regarding sacrifice and how power wasn’t really what she wanted.

she's an incredibly powerful mage and drop dead gorgeous and deserved so much better!!! justice for yen

God forbid women do anything. She either gets hate or is ignored, really classic stuff. And she's Geralt's gf but you know, *gestures at geraskier*

[thedemonofcat]

One morning, Jaskier awakens to the familiar sights of his childhood bedroom in Lettenhove, surrounded by his estranged parents and a mysterious man he's never met. They address him as Julian, not Jaskier, claiming he'd been unconscious for days after hitting his head.

To Jaskier's disbelief, they insist the stranger is his betrothed, and his memories of travels with Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri are dismissed as mere dreams. Desperate for validation, Jaskier tries to cling to his past, but memories slip away, leaving him feeling lost.

Jaskier finds himself trapped in the Pankratz manor with his betrothed, who keeps offering him tea in an odd manner. He wonders if his partner is trying to change him into someone else, erasing the lively bard he once was and turning him into someone who is more reserved and meek.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Jaskier, his true family - Geralt, Ciri, and Yennefer - are tirelessly searching for their missing bard.

[thelostgirl21]

I've just realised something...

1. The number of slaughtered guards in the room Radovid was found weeping in was rather impressive, even for a simple "security detail".

2. While Ciri might have been a highly trained fighter, she may not have been able to defeat / fight them all off. If they'd been hiding in the bushes until the force field was down, then they might have been able to capture her.

3. Radovid told Jaskier he slipped away from his security detail, and promised him he was in no danger. So, it implies they'd been with him when he'd left the ball at Thanedd.

4. Given that said security detail was then found massacred in some common room, they apparently had absolutely no clue where Radovid was going, failed to find the Prince (if they attempted to search for him for a while), and then chose to return to the place they were assigned to stay to wait for him.

5. Dijsktra seemed awfully confident that Ciri was now in their possession when he spoke to Geralt. So, he was either expecting that:

a) Radovid would be too terrified to attempt defying his instructions to lead the large group of soldiers directly to Ciri.

b) Radovid would indeed attempt to give the soldiers the slip, but they'd have no trouble following his trail and barging in to capture Ciri (perhaps one of the reasons why Radovid pretended he was so bad at hiding with them earlier; so they wouldn't suspect he'd actually be able to "vanish" on them).

c) Since Radovid hadn't been told that the guards would be attempting to take Ciri, and instead really been asked by Philippa to draw Jaskier out for information (Jaskier is one of their "agents", too, after all). Dijkstra - that would have feigned just "wanting him out of the way" - would have been counting on Radovid being naive enough to believe the large soldiers contingent accompanying him "for his safety" was not acting under anyone else's orders... Nor for him to realize that if Jaskier wasn't attending the ball with Geralt and Yennefer, then that meant that he'd be with Ciri. And that his guards would be attempting to capture her if he followed Philippa's instructions.

Note: I'm leaning towards "c" and thinking Dijkstra and Philippa would be more keen on "using him", rather than openly involving him in their plans.

In that case, Radovid's attempt to talk to Ciri would not have been part of Dijsktra and Philippa's plans, but his own wish to convince her to come with him.

6. Either Philippa was the one that knew where Jaskier and Ciri were staying, and told Radovid while hoping he'd go there and lead the guards to them... Or Radovid is exceptionally good at tracking people on his own.

7. Either way, Radovid had refused to let his guards know where he was heading (or given them a false location), to keep Jaskier and Ciri safe from them.

8. Radovid is also exceptionally good at hiding and not being found, apparently. Because he did manage to lose a bunch of guards without getting caught.

I'm actually starting to think he wears that fur cloak to be able to hide his bright red clothes under it when trying to give his guards the slip at night.

It looks luxurious enough and like something a Prince would wear...

But it can also serve as camouflage, when you don't want to arise suspicion that you're planning to slip past your security detail and run off on your own that evening by putting on commoner clothing.

Even his hair color matches some of the lighter fur details of the cloak.

If he hadn't been making noises in that small corner, and had chosen a completely dark spot instead, I'm not sure Jaskier would even have noticed him...

Somehow, I have a feeling that he's been hiding in corners like this a lot throughout his life.

So, all of this brings me to the conclusion that, If Radovid going to see Ciri alone had been the actual plan, then Dijsktra comment about Geralt being "too late" would have meant that they thought Radovid showing up alone and unarmed would have been 100% sufficient to convince Ciri to leave for Redania's capital with Radovid, rather than go find Geralt and Yennefer; and/or wait for them to return to ask them if they thought it was a good idea/decide to all go together.

And that's... very unlikely...

So Radovid may have still been collaborating with Dijkstra and Philippa, but at least he was trying his best to keep Jaskier and Ciri safe...

Also, although I'm pretty sure the show won't go with that, I kinda like the idea that Radovid might be really talented at moving around without being seen / picking pockets and/or anything that has to do with hiding, actually.

Just imagining him joining Jaskier at some point, and everyone in Geralt's company is sort of a bit annoyed that they have yet another "non-fighter" to look after in the group...

But then, next morning, they wake up, and there's like a few extra weapons and bags of money in the camp, and Radovid is just "So, there's a Nilfgaardian outpost a few miles east. Thought it might make things more complicated for them, and easier for us, if I relieved them of some of their stuff. Hope that's okay?"

Or there are times where everything is just quiet, and Radovid goes "So I've been thinking...", making Jaskier jump out of his skin, because they've been walking side-by-side in silence for, like, 10 minutes now, but Jaskier never noticed he was right there.