#possessive yennefer

[cosmos-coma]

Wisteria

A/N: hey-o, back at it again with a late valentines day piece because my brain loves possessive Yennefer.

Pairing: Yennefer of Vengeberg  x Reader

Words: ~750

Summary: Yennefer has planned a lovely evening for you two this Valentine's day, but Philippa seems bent on causing trouble for her possessive sister-in-arms.

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The stone hallways of the lodge echoed with your footsteps as you returned from dinner. A small smile lay gently on your lips as you made your way toward your room, to get ready. Most mages didn’t really care too much about the minor holidays, so many come to pass when you live for decades upon decades. But then again Yennefer wasn’t like most mages.

You and Yennefer had been together for just a decade now, a short time from a mage’s perspective, but still, every holiday feels like the first. The giddy rush of having someone by your side for the holiday of love coursed through you like adrenaline. 

You promised you’d meet her just as soon as you got into something more comfortable. You had just stepped out of your room, wrapped up in a delicate robe when you were interrupted. 

“My my… I haven't seen you dressed up like that around here before..” 

You sighed, something less weary and more annoyed, “hello, Philippa… I thought you'd be at the library,” you commented as you turned to her, looking into the ribbon that covered her eyes. “I also thought you couldn’t see” 

“A mage of everyone should know that eyes are only one way to see,” she commented, a sly smile on her lips and she reached out to touch the soft fabric. “Hmmm, what material… It feels like Skellige’s finest…” 

“Yen got it for me… she knows I miss the area,” you explained with pride, “just like I know that you’re only doing this to rile her up. What did she do this time?” you said with a half-heartedly amused smile.

She grinned as her fingers gently tugged on a curl of your hair, “She’s stolen a collection of my rare books. Only one set like it in the whole continent…” 

You shook your head and laughed a bit, “you two and your petty squabbles… you’re like sisters that steal each other's toys.”

“PHILIPPA!” You heard your beloved yell from down the hall, no doubt wondering what was taking so long. 

You felt little vines of Wisteria climb up your feet, wrapping possessively around your ankles as Yennefer drew closer. She looked absolutely enraged and her heels clacked menacingly against the tile floor. Her eyes glowed gently as magic welled up in her palms. 

“Hmm, I believe that’s my cue… I’ll be seeing you around, Y/n,” Philippa whispered to you with a grin and a kiss on the cheek before quickly fluttering off in her owl form. 

“That skeeving…” Yennefer grumbled under her breath until you caught her cheek in your hand. Anger instantly ebbed away as her violet eyes softened. 

“Calm down, my flower… you’ve scared her off for now,” you said with a chuckle. “You know she only does this to mess with you. This is why you can't keep taking her books…” 

“She knows you're off limits, she knows you’re MINE!” Yen yelled pointedly down the hall, being met with hooting laughter from down the hall. The thin vines around your ankles tightened snugly around you, responding to the sorceress's intense emotions. 

You only shook your head, leaning down to delicately unwind the plant, “Well I’m going to your room, you can either come with me or you can go smite your sister in arms…” You said, not even waiting for her answer as you continued making your way down the hall.

“I… “ Yen groaned momentarily, mourning the opportunity, as she followed quickly in your footsteps. “You’re the only one who can sway me like that…” 

You threw a smile back at her, shrugging your robe a little lower on your shoulders, “I know; I do my best not to abuse it.” you chuckled as you stopped at her doorway. 

She slid in front of you and took your hand as the door pushed open, revealing an utterly romantic sight. The books that used to cover the desk and floors were all neatly stacked on the bookshelves. Candles glowing with pink light floated about the room, casting a soft and loving glow over the large bed. 

You grinned as you stepped inside, poking the nearest candle and watching it bob and move around as if in water. “My flower,  this is amazing… I can’t imagine how much energy this took though.”  

“It's all worth it for you, my dear…” she said with a smile- one that quickly turned mischievous- “Now come and show me exactly what it is you changed into so I can get you out of it even quicker.”

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Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @madamemelancholysstuff @dark-academia-slut

Wanna be added/taken off certain taglists? Just DM to let me know!

[astaldis]

For the Whumptober prompts 20 "It's not your fault", 21 "Spirit possession", 30 "What have I done?", alt. "Regret" and the @witchermonstermayhem October prompts "Ghost" and "Kaer Morhen"

Chapters: 1/1        Words: 1,000 Fandom: The Witcher (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer of Vengerberg  Characters: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Vesemir, Merek  Additional Tags: Whumptober 2024, spirit possession, ghost, Regrets, Kaer Morhen, Protective Geralt of Rivia, protective Yennefer of Vengerberg, found family

Summary: Ciri has a bad nightmare. Yennefer wants to help, yet somehow she makes things worse, much worse. Fortunately, Geralt and Vesemir know what to do. (Set shortly after the end of S2 and the fight at Kaer Morhen)

"Fuck, what have I done?" Yennefer stares at Ciri, horrified.

The girl is tossing, turning and thrashing in her bed, her face a grimace of pain.

"What did you do, Witch?" Geralt asks sharply, rushing into Ciri's room. "Step back!" He pushes Yennefer to the side unceremoniously and sits down next to his child surprise.

"Just a little spell to calm her. She was having a nightmare, something about the black knight grabbing her."

"Looks like your little spell has made it a lot worse. Do you at least know a counter-sp—"

Geralt's last word is drowned out by a loud howling coming from Ciri's mouth. But it is not Ciri's voice. It is a man's voice, deep and rough, full of pain and hatred. The girl sits up with a jolt, her eyes flying wide open. Yet, they are not her eyes, not emerald green. They are ghastly white.

Continue reading on Ao3.

[thedemonofcat]

Jaskier possesses the uncanny ability to return from the dead, but each resurrection comes at a steep cost: he must forget something each time.

So far, Jaskier has forgotten:

- His hometown. Though he recalls the name Lettenhove, he no longer remembers its location.

- The name of his first music teacher.

- Who he lost his virginity to.

- His true nature. Jaskier knows he's not entirely human, but he can't remember what he is.

When Jaskier is separated from Geralt, Ciri, and Yennefer, he is captured by Nilfgaard. Aware that his death would only be temporary, Jaskier devises a desperate plan. He chooses to forget himself and his humanity, reasoning that if Jaskier no longer exists, he cannot betray his loved ones.

Later, when Geralt goes to rescue him, he finds the bard transformed into something more monstrous. Despite this, Geralt is unwavering in his determination to restore Jaskier's true self.

[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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[mercymaker]

OC smash or pass

i was tagged by the lovely @communistfries @orangekittyenergy @togepies @rivensbane @tadpole-apocalypse @euryalex sorry it took me seven years to get to this 😬

Rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

▬ Maleane

(i'm horrifically indecisive, so here you have a selection of pretty portraits and steamy shots to, uh.. stimulate your brain for the decision making!)

Quick Facts:

Height: 160cm (5'3)

Age: Early 100s (around the time of Above the Vaulted Sky, some 100 years after the game events)

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bi/pan

Pros:

A talented sorcerer who can fly! That's fun!

She's pretty good at reading people and will make you hear whatever you want to hear.

Takes pride in being good at things, so you're in for a good time if she decides you're worthy of her talents.

I'm totally biased, but she's hot.

And smol (might be a pro or a con depending on what she's working with).

Since she's not always down for uh... penetrative action, Mal's mastered the art of using her hands (and words).

She's smart and resourceful and can fare well in most settings, be it out in the wilderness or in the middle of a city (except the Underdark, don't take her there).

Prefers to take a more passive/submissive role in bed, but only with those she trusts, otherwise doesn't mind taking on more of a dominant position. Often enjoys the power struggle and playfulness of it all.

Cons:

Drow (though she does try to pass as a moon elf for her own safety).

Can be cold and distant and uncaring.

An incredibly good liar.

Occasional pillow princess.

Can be pretty hard to please in bed.

Was raised by a former Lolth-sworn spy, so—despite growing up on the surface—has some leftover "classic" drow ideals and prejudices.

Is not averse to murder, just usually doesn't bother with the mess of it and whatever consequences may follow. But provoke her and it will not take her much to justify spilling your guts.

Because she grew up having so little, can be quite possessive of people and things.

tagging the best gamers in town: @vspin @andauril @yennefer-of-vengerbergs @goromimii

@preciouslittlebhaalbae @seance @jerichoes @judasiskariot @ejoym

@zevswarden @bardic-inspo @lazysload @elminsters @katsigian

@florbelles @evenstar-crescentmoon @galedekarios @onewingedangels @aesfocus

@wyllzel @amethystinam @elizzacassan @avenananana @hawke

@bg3storage @baelavelaryon @ayrennaranaaldmeri @theredviper @aevallare

& anyone who wants to make this for their OCs ♥

[kuwdora]

Witcher Recs - Villains & Bad Guys Edition, part 1

Please enjoy these 23 fic recs featuring Emhyr, Dijkstra, Radovid, Vilgefortz, and the Wild Hunt. I tried to indicate what witcher canon is predominant but sometimes people blend the canons. I'm a voracious reader when my brain lets me read, and I read so many different things. I have many tastes! I haven't done a witcher recs post since 2022 and I have 18 billion more recs in the pipeline that I had collected since like 2021.

With any luck and squeeful motivation I'll share more villain recs in the future.

These recs feature mostly rarepairs. I'm still experimenting with formatting these recs on tumblr, let me know what y'all think on that front. Hope you enjoy the fic!

This got pretty long so I'm putting it under a cut.

Emhyr

Prickly Urchin by @seventfics. Game canon. Dijkstra/Emhyr. 2200w. Pre-relationship and tagged ‘Shady Rich Parties with Questionable Ends.’ Based the prompt ‘cursed’ and Dijkstra meets a prickly Duny. Few people still alive can say they've met the emperor before his ascension to the Nilfgaardian throne. A young Count Sigismund Dijkstra is one of them. It's just that neither of them knew.

A great little AU/missing scene, tackles the premise of these two meeting shortly after the Law of Surprise in a great way.

the sweetest flower by @witch-and-her-witcher. Ambigious canon. Emhyr/Yennefer. 700w. Explicit. Oral sex, cunnilingus, power dynamics. Satisfaction comes when Emhyr relinquishes power.

The way Cee opened up my brain with this ficlet made me gorge myself on everything in the Emhyr/Yen tag after I first read this. The possibilities of this pairing, whew. This ficlet sdlfjasldfkjasldfkjasl.

Quills by @bittydragon. Game canon. Emhyr/Geralt. 7500w. Teen. PTSD, Flashbacks, nonsexual touch. Emhyr can feel the quills and claws growing from underneath his skin again. It’s only a matter of time before they burst out—so it’s lucky that a witcher has ended up in his rooms.

There’s so much great Emhyr/Geralt fic out there, and I’m such a fan of this one because of Geralt managing to soothe Emhyr during an anxiety attack.

Animal Symbiosis by @seventfics. Game canon. Emhyr/Dandelion. 3400w. Teen. Soul bond, Fake/pretend relationship. An emperor and a bard accidentally tie their souls together.

I can’t get enough of where sevent’s ideas take me. This pairing sounds wild on the surface and it is but I am so fucking compelled by the dynamic, esp when it’s been an accidental bonding.

Wild Hunt

Schneeweißblind by jo_writes_fic. Game canon. Emhyr/Eredin. 2200w. Explicit. Temperature play, political sex, unsafe sex. Pre-TW3. Eredin’s been coming to Emhyr’s temporary court in Vizima for several months now, about once a fortnight. At first it was to weasel information out of Emhyr, to try and find Cirilla, but the elf quickly learned that Emhyr knew less than the king of the wild hunt himself about his daughter’s whereabouts. And once he realized that, their meetings turned into the pretence of a tentative political alliance to cover up the carnal truth of what really happens when Eredin deigns to visit. Ice magic and masochist Emhyr.

My brain whited out from how brilliant this fic is and I think it changed my brain for the hornier.

Plaything by @eatingcroutons. Game canon. Geralt/Wild Hunt. 100 words. Explicit. Rape. Voyeurism. Eredin and his Riders enjoy making use of Geralt in their down time.

😈😈😈

Outplayed by zemyr. Game canon. Geralt/Wild Hunt. 100 words. Explicit. Rape, size difference. Remix of crou’s Plaything.

🔥🔥🔥 This drabble lives rent free in my brain.

Commander’s Discretion by @witch-and-her-witcher. Game canon. Eredin/Geralt. 100 words. Explicit. Anal fingering. Eredin has a soft spot for pretty, lethal things under his possession.

😳 Cee still making me go wild with this drabble.

Radovid

Spymasters and secrets by @dancingwiththefae. Show canon. Radovid. Radovid/Dijkstra. 3400w. Explicit. BDSM, daddy kink, impact play. Radovid always pushed and pushed Dijkstra. Sometimes he needed to be put in his place.

Faye serving up a heaping mess of with this messy messy Radovid with Dijkstra. I could have put this in the Dijkstra section but ahhhh I wanted it here with the Radovid fic. 🔥

Villains Aren’t Born, They’re Made by ALJordan. Game canon. Radovid/OC, Radovid & Philippa. Mother/son relationship. A storm counts omens as Radovid hunts Philippa Eilhart to stand trial for treason.

The worldbuilding with the OC and vibes and characterizations in this fic are outstanding.

The Shade of Your Eyes by @kuwdora. Game canon Radovid & Philippa. Post game, canon AU. Body horror, existentialism, magical theory as torture. He remembers the weight of the crown that used to sit upon his head but he doesn’t remember his own name. Anger and resentment curdles because he cannot recall his mother’s face or the last food he ate before he died but he knows the source his ire. It originates from the woman who chortles when she sits at the table. Her laugh stokes the rage in his disembodied soul.

Philippa tortures Radovid’s soul. Radovid POV. I couldn’t help but play around with the darkfic idea for Phil getting some revenge.

Don't worry I have a whole other stack of Philippa fic to rec later.

Dijkstra

You Seem To Enjoy The Feeling by galactic_roses. Game canon. Dijkstra/Gaunter. 2800w. Explicit. Dijkstra has made a deal with a merchant of sorts in exchange for something he values above all else: information. However, the price he has to pay is not quite what he was expecting, and now he has to face the consequences of his words. Sharing a body, smut, body horror, some more tags,

My favorite tag from the author: dijkstra is an adult he can enter into a sus contract with a sort of demon man if he wants to. This is like the most galaxy brained rare pair idea and can’t stop thinking about it when I consider rare pairs that changed my brain.

Diagram: Master’s Weapon Repair Kit by butt_muncher_seven. Game canon. Dijkstra/Geralt. D/s, PWP, 2500w. Djikstra knew men the way Geralt knew monsters; how to kill them, how to hunt them, what their motivations were, what they were going to do next. And in Geralt he saw a man about to do something incredibly rash and self-destructive. A normal man would've gone home, drunk himself stupid and got in a fist fight with the nearest person he could beat. Maybe he'd recover, maybe he'd burn his life down around him, because the chaos of such upheaval was worse than the certainty of reprisals, of consequences. It was the kind of thing a skilled spymaster knew how to counteract proactively. For a less valuable player he had less personal means of redress, but for Geralt… Geralt required a personal touch.

This Dijkstra fic is my everything and I fling the link to anyone I can because it’s so fucking good.

Hostages by @limerental. Isengrim/Dijkstra. Book canon. 26k. Mature. Rescue missions, fairy tale elements. When Isengrim Faoiltiarna's commando is taken captive by the Aen Elle, Sigismund Dijkstra must play unlikely hero in order to come to his rescue.

Lim’s written so much great Isengrim/Dijkstra that I want to rec it all but if you are a fan of some plot and amazing storytelling, hostages is a great gateway. Click to see Dijkstra’s feelings for Isengrim as he mounts a rescue for his old elven husband.

He Comes With Gifts by @bittylildragon. Game canon. Dijkstra/Geralt. 4800w. Explicit. Slice of Life, King Dijkstra, snarky Geralt, PTSD and more. A little slice of life with King Dijkstra and his sometimes-resident witcher boyfriend.

I live for bratty snarky Geralt and Dijkstra putting him in his place. It’s fucking delicious and hot.

Bath by GilliganGoodfellow. Dijkstra and Bart. 1200w. Mature. Fluff and humor, slice of life. Dijkstra gets a relatively good idea of how his evening is going to go when, while descending into the basement to check on his troll, he slips on the ladder.

I can’t help but love anything with Bart and Dijkstra and this is so cute and lovely.

Bloody little beast by @gleaming_silence. Game canon. 100 words. Gen. Domestic Gruff. Dijkstra with a kitten. Even after Geralt broke his other leg, daily life goes on for Sigi Reuven and Novigrad’s underworld never sleeps.

This fic was written for me so I love it. Cutest drabble for a Novigrad crime lord.

Degradation for degradation by @limerental. Book canon. 1700w. Explicit. Geralt/Dijkstra. Humiliation, facials. Over a decade later, Dijkstra finally has the opportunity to repay the humiliation Geralt subjected him to in the wake of the Thanned coup. He doesn't expect both of them to like it so much.

I can’t get enough of this Geralt and Dijkstra dynamic. Eating it up with a spoon and always wanting more.

Vilgefortz

The Need For Love, Revolting by ptork66. Show canon. Rience/Vilgefortz. 2200w. Explicit. Dubcon, posessive sex, choking, drugging, bdsm. Vilgefortz wants to consume Rience like Rience’s fire consumes the air.

🔥🔥🔥 Fucked up fic for a fucked up pairing. All the kuwdos from me.

the mirror man by seasofglass. Show canon. Rience/Vilgefortz, 12,000w. Mature. Canon divergence, d/s, manipulation. When a mysterious benefactor frees Rience from prison after the fall of Cintra, he decides to play along in his dangerous game and try to further gain Vilgefortz' favor. Little did he know that playing with fire was the fastest way to also get burned by it.

This is a messy intense look at Rience getting swept up in Vilgefortz’ plans. The shaving scene drives me up the wall in the best way. I love me posessive fuckedupness in this pairing.

Yours, lock and key by zemyr. Ambiguous canon. 100w. Explicit. Rience/Vilgefortz. Master/Servant, magical sex toys. prompt: possessiveness kink deluxe while fucking.

Zemyr’s fic melts my brain in the best way, and the drabbles are 100 words of hotness.

Staves by @sassaffrassa. Show canon. Geralt/Vilgefortz. 100w. Explicit. Object insertion. inappropriate use of vilgefortz's magical staff.

😈 This drabble gets me cackling.

Ouroboros by @kuwdora. Show/book canon blend. Geralt/Vilgefortz. 20,000w. Explicit. Show/book canon blending, fanon continental art history, illusions, sexual fantasy, dubcon, masturbation, d/s, body worship. Geralt turns Vilgefortz proposition down at Thanedd. Vilgefortz makes a Geralt painting and masturbates to it and it spirals into an elaborate sexual fantasy.

Okay this is the fic that ate my brain while writing it last summer. It has layers of book and show references, literary inversions and way too many metaphors.

You know that tumblr post "you're so obsessed with imagery and symbolism, you stupid homo"? That's this me with this fic, lmao.

So come for 20k of Vilgefortz wanking to the Geralt fantasy in his head. Warning that the fic seemed to have driven the 8 people who managed to read and finish it and sounded insane after reading so take it with a horny grain of salt.

Previously on Kuwdora's Witcher Recs:

Istredd Recs

❤️❤️❤️

[limerental]

ficletvember 2024 - day 1

it's my fifth ficlet month! I'll be writing a little fic every day of November again this year and once again, these will mostly be witcher related of any and all canons.

starting off the month strong with a yennskier(/geralt) modern au

Fleeing emotional upheaval, a regretful and nostalgic Yennefer waits backstage for popstar Jaskier to finish his concert of the night-- just the way she used to.

One impulsive midday flight away from the last gasps of a fading dream, Yennefer found herself waiting in the wings of a great performance hall, swathed in refracting light and sound.

A cross-armed security guard stood beside her in the alcove beyond the stage. Even with the call she'd made to his handler, Vespula, before takeoff, she'd had trouble talking her way in backstage.

Had had to scroll through grainy photos on social media feeds to point to for proof, suffering the humiliation of his security's blank looks, pitying frowns.

Though she'd said she would, Yennefer hadn't visited this whole tour, even months since the first show. Too busy, she'd said, when he called some nights. Maybe when Ciri's home from break. Maybe after the holidays. Maybe–

From hundreds of miles away his voice crooned and then softened, phone tucked between her ear and the pillows, the master bedroom as cold and empty as it always was now. If he were there, he wouldn't stand for it. He'd make them talk through the cold distance that had grown between them.

Geralt snored down the hall in the guest room, feeling further away than Jaskier did.

His last tour, when they both were freshly on the outs with Geralt and thought themselves better for it, she'd surprised him often enough that his whole team knew to expect her. She'd slip in through some backdoor, shake off small talk with his wardrobe and makeup crew and lie in wait to pounce after the last encore.

Fresh from the euphoric high of performance, Jaskier was always a living furnace, sweat-slick and dripping glitter, Yennefer's grip on his body possessive and consuming. He could cavort across stage, seduce millions with his vapid pop songs and the thrust of his hips, but afterward, she beckoned and he tripped over himself to get to her and they kissed like lovers torn apart and reuniting after far too long.

They kissed like that every night, brazen and thorough, unconcerned who saw.

She ended up with her own security detail, the fans beginning to recognize her, to seethe with jealousy in Instagram comments, wishing they were her.

Cameras caught their heated embraces and their nights out afterward at fine dining and VIP clubs. Photos of the pair were smeared across the front cover of gossip rags. Kissing in sleek evening wear, in the rain beyond nightclubs, in the backseat of cars.

And then, eventually, it had come out that international popstar Jaskier's mysterious raven-haired paramour was a married woman who lived in the quaint countryside and had a teenaged daughter and a doting husband at home, and the whole thing had blown up into the affair of the decade, several high-profile appearances needed to explain the whole thing away.

“No, you see,” said Jaskier, the fool wholly in his element in the midst of spinning a story about his life-long friendship with Geralt, how he had hated her intrusion into his life until he hadn't at all. “Yen and I have some fun. Rarely safe and sane but consensual on all fronts. But Geralt and Yennefer? Those two are destined to be together.”

The stage lights swung in a blinding arc, and the crowd's roar crescendoed. Only a song or two left and then security said he'd slip back this corridor and take a waiting car to the hotel. These days, he turned in early most nights, they said. Don't keep him up too late, he has appearances first thing tomorrow.

As if it had been Yennefer alone who was the impetus behind the sleepless, wild nights from years ago, as if he wouldn't have found someone else to drag along into the spotlight if not her.

These days, they were used to being small, vital parts of one another's lives, to sharing only moments, to knowing their lives unfolded beyond the times they reunited again. Never wholly separate but inevitably apart.

That had always felt good and right. To know Jaskier missed them well enough, loved them dearly, fit neatly back into the family every time, but did not covet the life Geralt and Yennefer had built together. That he had chosen his path apart from that domestic bliss and did not have to feel jilted, unwanted, or secondary.

Waiting in the wings as the last song gave to shouts and applause, Yennefer felt very small.

He didn't see her at first, the shadowed alcove off stage full dark after the blaze of the stage. Only when security stopped him by the arm, stalling his animated flounce down the corridor, did he see her there and grin and throw back his head with laughter.

Glitter on his cheekbones caught the scant light and fuck-- he was beautiful, all popstar surreal and larger than life.

In a breath, he noticed something off in her expression and sombered at once, crowding close to hold her in his arms without asking a single thing.

Clutching him with her fingers caught in his sweat-damp collar, Yennefer thought of the sheaf of legal papers left on the kitchen island beside a vase of flowers from the garden, thought of the empty drawers she'd found upstairs, the quiet of the house closing in around her.

She thought how's that for destined? Destined to slowly dwindle to nothing.

The woman she had been years ago, the one who had kissed him breathless in the wings most nights, would have hurled sharp accusations his way, crafted to cut. If he had stayed with them, then maybe– If he had thought to take his head out of the clouds and join them in that life then–

The skin of Jaskier's neck smelled of sweat and was so warm it burned Yennefer's forehead as she swayed into him and wept.

She had no one to blame but her own misplaced hope.

(And days later, when Geralt found them cocooned together in the hotel room, she did not shout the angry, hurt things that she wanted to, that she would have, and simply took him, meek and apologetic, into their arms.)

[nnightskiess]

everytime you leave, part eight

₊° - 𝐲𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

everytime you leave, masterlist

tw: mentions of trauma and not wanting to live anymore

a special thank you to each and every wonderful person who has stuck around to wait for this story to unfold.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

After hours spent studying magical, political and courtly intrigues, your feet dragged you towards Tissaia's wing in Aretuza. Walking the path felt like second nature to you after all these weeks. It was still a foreign feeling; the realisation that you were capable of magic, and the phantom feeling of your burns always begged you not to forget the event that had made you discover your destiny. Despite all the terror, the fear and the insecurity still lingering inside your head, you were actually starting to become genuinely interested in exploring your Chaos after some small victories of your control. You had even warmed up to the idea of Tissaia being your unspoken warden, despite the woman being a reminder of the ruins she'd plucked you from. She was a strict woman who valued respect and the eagerness to learn, and it seemed that you had proven to her you were capable of exactly that, seeing as her harsh teachings had gotten a little gentler lately. She'd mostly given you books and scrolls to study, incantations to memorise and motions to forge into your memory. Though your eagerness to gain control over your magic, you were grateful for the hours spent studying—each opportunity you took to put your Chaos to use meant one more chance to lose control over it as well.

Though your energy was depleted after the hours spent learning the proper pronunciation of Elder speech spells, the accurate hand movements and how to work with runes, crystals and amulets, you were still filled with eager anticipation to see what Tissaia would teach you this time. All these classes were overwhelming you to no end, and you finally realised why it took mages years to hone all the skills they were supposed to possess before their ascension. Still, you were adamant about not letting yourself take that long. Though still feeling unattainable now, you knew you'd have a sliver of freedom again after your ascension. The more control you had over your Chaos, the more trust the Brotherhood would put in you, and the less tight the collar around your neck would be- or so you thought.

You opened the door to her office, ready to prove your worth once more.

It surprised you to see Yennefer sitting in your usual spot. The only time the two of you were in this office together was during your detention hours. It had always only been Tissaia and you during your private lessons.

The girl's violet eyes narrowed in curiosity as she watched you approach.

"Y/N, take a seat."

You could tell by Tissaia's voice that you weren't in any trouble. Still, your eyes flashed across Yennefer's momentarily, the girl now giving you a look filled with equal confusion as those of your own.

Tissaia stood up, emptied the water from a pitcher into a vase and shoved it forward. It became clear what she had in mind for today.

"I want you to let the water disappear." Tissaia spoke, "If you both succeed, we'll go onto the next task."

Immediately, Yennefer perked up, "I thought detention would be over after we succeeded?"

Tissaia furrowed her brows, giving her a look that made the young mage shut up, "I am giving you a chance to learn more than your peers. You don't want it?"

Yennefer slouched back in her chair, lips sealed shut and eyes widening in intrigue. It seemed something shifted inside of her as she thought it over, "Why do we get to learn more?"

Tissaia smiled, having been prepared for this question, "There are mages, powerful ones, who ignore their emotions. They aid their Chaos with their knowledge and lead with confidence in their own capabilities. They do not know any better but to have ruled over their Chaos the second they felt it. They never had to fight for control, they were never in a battle with themselves, they were never searching, fighting or longing for that inner peace." She paused for a beat, "And then there are mages who get consumed by their emotions, let it fuel their energy or let it break them apart. Their power stands directly in line with the well-being of their soul. The focus and control it takes to both oversee your emotions and Chaos and don't let either one take over but dominate them both, is something not many mages will have to learn to do." A pregnant pause followed as she watched how the two of you had clung onto her every word, "Except for us."

Your voice was small as you wondered, "Us?" You somehow felt estranged that Aretuza's rectoress was naming the three of you within the same breath.

Tissaia's face softened, "Do not think I never struggled finding the balance of my Chaos simply because of the seat I now hold. It is precisely why I know I cannot treat you like the others and anticipate the same results. You two walk into a room and it starts getting stuffy, you fail at a task and I can feel your Chaos bounce against your chest in a hot fury at the defeat, you bring yourself to bed and still you are too overpowered with worries and fears to find your sleep." She gave the two of you a serious stare, "Instead, you tear apart a room before your emotions finally settle, endangering the lives of others, and that of your own. It is your job to control your Chaos, not become it." She leaned forward, "My duty is to mend you into fine mages... but what if I send you out into the Continent on behalf of the Brotherhood, and your precious little feelings get hurt and you submit to Chaos, and you decide to let your emotions reign and this time tear up a village instead, whose fault would that be?"

You knew she directed these words towards you, and you refused to meet her eye.

"Yours."

Tissaia nodded at Yennefer, eyes still boring into yours to get you to look up at her so that she could see you understood. Still, you refused.

"I do not say this to rip apart your morale or to belittle or frighten you. I say this so that we may all keep our heads when the time comes when I let you two ascend."

Yennefer looked at you, having sensed your impending silence. Something was wrong- you felt off, and she could sense an erratic sensation being transmitted from you.

"Look at me. Both of you." Tissaia ordered, her voice rising as she warned you, "Y/N."

Her eyes were steely as you looked up.

"I need you to understand the possible severity of the consequences each time you use your Chaos. It is a gift, but not one we throw around carelessly. We hold the power of saving or destroying the very lands we have tried to keep in balance for centuries. One wrong move from an inexperienced or out-of-control mage and all that the Brotherhood has built up will be forfeited."

Her heeded warning felt like a backhanded compliment. On one hand, she was praising you and Yennefer by calling you within one breath of her own name and skills, on the other, she was not displaying lots of trust in your progress ahead with her speech. You doubted any of the other mages had ever gotten such a personal warning, aside from the usual ones your teachers would alert you of each class. No, it was clear Tissaia was trying her best to have her words hit how she wanted them, to have them instil some fear into you so that her voice and her warning would echo in your mind for the rest of your long lives.

"Have I made myself clear?"

Slowly and a little unsurely, the two of you nodded. Why Tissaia was singling Yennefer and you out, remained a mystery.

Tissaia sighed, "Use your words."

"Yes."

"You have."

She pursed her lips, sensing the sincerity in both your eyes. This was enough for now. One day, when it felt right, she would maybe let you in on what she had decided to do with you. But not now. She needed to be absolutely sure first, and she would have to be... on the day of your acsension.

"Very well. Now show me what you have practised," Tissaia's eyes bore into those of Yennefer, making it clear who would be up first.

Yennefer tensed slightly. She knew she could do it, she had come close to succeeding the last time, if only she hadn't looked up to see if you were watching her. She'd lost her focus then, blaming the ringing in her ears that had suddenly picked up and turned to a painfully high pitch until her ears had popped again. It had happened quite often when in your orbit, but as of late, she'd gone from hating all the sensations to finding a strange and unwelcome solace in the way it all mirrored the feeling of what she'd imagine floating to feel like. It was calming in a sense, despite hating the uncertainty of why and what her Chaos was making her feel. But last time, she'd had leaves and petals to chew on and keep her grounded, and she'd had your calming presence in the room instead of Tissaia's looming one. That, and Tissaia's warning words rung in her mind now, making her the slightest bit uneasy to use her Chaos.

The need to prove herself won.

Yennefer stood up and grabbed the vase off the desk. She closed her eyes to better feel what was happening inside of her instead of focusing too much on what was happening with the water.

You leaned forward in your seat, hoping to catch a glance at whatever was going to happen. There was a tiny voice whispering in your ear that maybe, if Yennefer failed, your own failure wouldn't be seen as the worst. It filled you with guilt, and karma caught up with you. Lo and behold, the water slowly disappeared, albeit drop by drop. Yennefer dared to peek through her eyes when she felt the vase's weight lessen, and she let out a soft sigh when she realised it had worked.

Tissaia dipped her head in acknowledgement, then turned to you, "Go ahead." Her softspoken words coaxed you out of your seat. Yennefer hovered next to you and spared you a tightlipped smile. Her fingers brushed against your own as she handed you the vase.

You both knew you had to achieve this accomplishment after Tissaia's words about not letting emotions get the best of you, including nerves. Hours had been spent practising this very thing, and you had succeeded only once, which you still thought was thanks to sheer luck. Your palms were sweaty as you watched the water pour back into the vase, and you swore it seemed like there was more water in it now than when it had been Yennefer's turn. Perhaps those were just the nerves. Your palms were turning sweaty and it made the vase feel all the more heavier each as you clenched it in your hands to not let it drop to the floor.

"Today, Y/N."

"Just like last time," Yennefer whispered from beside you, her eyes transfixed on you and the vase in your trembling hands.

Tissaia watched the two of you; how your eyes met those of Yennefer after her whispered encouragement, how Yennefer kept glancing at the side of your face even after you had focused back on the water. You took a deep breath and could feel the calm company of your Chaos engulfing you like an old friend. You had improved- you both had- in such a small amount of time. Tissaia couldn't help but feel fulfilment at the two of you... and herself, for thinking of the genius idea to pair you together. It had been a gamble at first, with Yennefer's fiery nature and your initial defiance, but a certain stability enveloped the pair of you now. The need to prove yourself and to finally tame the thundering storm within had won from the indifference. It was a surprise even to yourself. Yennefer had usually snapped or kept to herself when you were together, but it seemed that when you'd stuck up for her in the dining hall, and come to her room to apologise, something had shifted within the raven-haired mage.

At peace and willing yourself to get it done this time, you watched as the water level dropped ever so slightly. Until it started to splutter and bubble back to the surface. You took a step back in surprise, bumping into Yennefer who held you steady by your elbow.

Your panicked eyes flitted to Tissaia, waiting for the scowl that didn't come; her expression didn't falter. She desperately needed to see how you would deal with a setback. Would you let it be and agree to defeat, or would you try again and vanquish?

Use your surroundings, it can be your greatest ally.

So you did just that, immediately eyeing the freshly plucked pink carnation in one of the other vases on Tissaia's desk. Without another thought, you dared to reach over and pluck one out, dropped it in the vase and started over. Yennefer knew what the thought process behind this action had been— all things held life, and thus all things were made of Chaos. To use your surroundings was to help control your Chaos better. To latch onto another living form of Chaos, was to aid your Chaos in its pursuit.

Tissaia tilted her head and watched as slowly but surely, the once beautiful flower dropped, turned yellow and finally wilted from overhydration— you had made it suck up all the water. She straightened her back when you were done with your creative approach and put the vase back on her desk.

The silence was deafening, and neither you nor Yennefer could read the thoughts on the face of your rectoress.

"I suppose it is time for the next hurdle- to further train your communication skills, at the very least." She eventually said.

"What do you mean?"

"We can talk, write and read just fine.”

Tissaia ignored you both and pulled a book out of her desk drawer, rummaged through it and shoved it towards the two of you— Telepathy, it read.

"Mind reading, though the same idea, is something else entirely when it comes to telepathy. Telepathy is a way to make contact with others without using your voice, to be able to hear and understand what they are saying to you without them opening their mouth, even from a far distance. So long as you can feel and tune in on one's Chaos, you can make the connection. Though a mage of some stature should be able to do this, your intuitions are not strong enough at the moment, especially yours." Tissaia singled you out, making your confidence shrink substantially.

"What's wrong with her intuition?" Yennefer's voice suddenly sounded very insulted, as if she took Tissaia's words as an attack on herself.

"Y/N lacks confidence in the abilities of her magic. She fears the use of it, as if her Chaos and she are not one and the same," Tissaia turned to Yennefer, "You know it is part of you, you feel Chaos bristling at your very core, but you simply block yourself by wanting to grasp it too hard. Both of you will have to work on solving that blockade before we can continue."

"How?"

"By trial and error."

"How?" You repeated yourself, not liking the uncertainty of things, nor the glint in Tissaia's eyes.

"You will see." Tissaia smiled gently, closed the book shut with a thud, gestured for one of you to grab it and stood up to grab her cigar, a clear message for you to get up and leave.

Yennefer stood there with the book tightly clutched against her chest, eyes flickering between yours and Tissaia's back, who was staring out her window now. You softly pulled at Yennefer's sleeve, motioning her to leave with you.

Once the tall heavy doors of rectoress De Vries's office fell shut and you trudged through the hallway, you turned to her again.

"What do we do with the book?"

"Use it as kindle, clearly," She rolled her eyes, but you heard the playful quip in her voice.

"Gods, that'll send rectoress De Vries to an early death," You huffed, deciding to join her banter, "And then have her haunt us for the rest of our lives."

She scrunched her nose at you, a singular soft chuckle leaving her lips. You smiled along, enjoying how you'd managed to break through her barrier.

You motioned at the book in her hands, "You can have it first, we'll read it in turns."

Yennefer furrowed her brows, having half expected your company while reading through it since it was still part of your detention, albeit not in the office of your rectoress. And she had come to quite like your reserved presence beside her after class. You let her make mistakes without commenting on them, without giving her a look of disdain or a sound of indifference. Most of all, you didn't treat her like she was any different than the others. Though, it was clear you hadn't felt the same about her presence. A sense of dread filled her and she listened to the devil on her shoulder yap in her ear.

See? No one will ever tolerate you enough to spend time in your presence unless absolutely necessary. You were a fool for ever thinking otherwise.

"What's wrong?" You nudged her with your elbow, "Can't read, after all? Need me to read it to you?" Your chuckled jests pulled her out of her trance. She schooled her features and huffed. You stumbled slightly when she harshly pushed the book against your chest and rushed away from you.

You watched her leave while you wondered what you had said wrong.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Today's class had been all about cleansing rituals and how to use certain herbs, crystals and scents to do so. It was the second one you'd had on the topic and it had already interested you gravely, for you had sensed the cleansing often helped with emptying your mind and balancing your emotions. One of your teachers, Nina Vivero, had shown which herbs, plants, fruits and other living things to use to pull strength from when your own bottle was depleted or overgrown by your emotions. For example, you'd learned that juniper berries cleansed and hunted out any negative energy that could creep up, and that it protected you from dark emotions from others. She'd informed the class that from now on, you could chew some berries at the end of each day to restore your Chaos.

Your next class would be a study class so that your Chaos could be replenished. Biruta Icarti, another one of your teachers at Aretuza, was probably going to talk about the history of the mages of the Continent again. It was important to know of the mages that had come before you and what they had done to keep the balance on the lands.

The classroom was already half-filled as you rounded the corner and their hushed conversation reached your ears. Instantly, you ducked back behind the curtains of the alcove.

"Hilda heard from Florence, who heard from Daena that Yennefer and Y/N blew up her room, that's the noise we heard. That's why they're still in detention, not because they're one of the new ones and the worst of the class."

"I'm sure they thought they could practice in the middle of the night without anyone knowing. I can't believe they honestly thought it wouldn't backfire like that, what with their terrible control."

"I would've paid to see the look on rectoress De Vries's face when she found out."

"Why do you think Yennefer was in Y/N's room to begin with?"

"Obviously to try and bewitch her, since no one would ever willingly be that monster's friend."

Not wanting their thoughts to run rampant and create more destructive rumours, you approached with a furied determination in your step. Their eyes immediately widened at your reveal.

"Are you so insecure about yourself that you resort to bringing others down?" Your gaze pierced that of Jutta's, "Or do you want to badmouth Yennefer so bad just to get in Fringilla's good graces?"

Jutta gaped at you, nothing left to say, when the girl next to her spoke up, "Oh, no, it seems she did manage to bewitch you. Who would've thought?"

Jutta pushed a chuckle out, while her eyes remained wide and filled with guilt, feeling trapped between two sides.

"Good luck being that hunchback's friend. People born like that are wicked, a mistake, a blunder of the universe. Freya did not intend things who look like that to walk among us."

"Fuck you and your Skellige beliefs, you horrible bitch."

You heard the swishing of her garments and the cadence of her uneven step before you saw her hurry out of the classroom as fast as she had entered.

Yennefer.

The girls watched you, clearly expecting you to follow Yennefer. And you did, because to hell with what they thought of it. Their laughter faded with each step you took to follow the raven-haired mage. It seemed Yennefer was aware of your pursuit when she picked up her pace.

"Yennefer!"

Instantly, she turned around, her jaw locked, her chin wobbling in anger, or misery, and her posture more tense than ever. She walked up to you, getting in your face as she spat, "I don't need your fucking help!"

You reared back, surprised she'd lashed out at you, "So you would have rather I let them talk about you like that?!"

"You think yourself some hero?! You're not my saviour! So stop fucking embarrassing me any further!"

"But it's not okay!"

"But it is my reality!" Yennefer spat back, matching your frustration.

"It doesn't have to be!" You stepped closer, eyes begging her to listen to you, to hear the message between your spoken words— that she had a friend in you, if she wanted to.

Yennefer scoffed and took a step back. Her eyes flashed across your face for a couple of seconds. You let her, knowing not to push her now. She huffed out a breath when she saw the sincerity on your face.

"You'll never get it, you're all the same," She muttered, voice small and broken. She gave you one last defying look and hurried away from you.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

"Bay leaf and calendula— all connected to the element of fire and beneficiary to hone your Chaos when you want to control it when fire's near. Every mage is known to have a sachet on or near them for protection and guidance. At Aretuza, you will learn your weaknesses and your dangers and gradually fill your sachet until the day of your ascension. You can put in whatever you react positively to, what soothes you or encourages you." Tissaia handed you the emerald velvet sachet with the dried leaves, "It is also not uncommon to put in little keepsakes and use them as talismans, seeing as gifts given to us with good intentions will hold bright energies." Then, she opened a tiny chest with rough crystal clusters, and let her fingertips rake over them before taking out a small brownish-grey stone. It looked sharp, chipped and rugged.

"This is a smoky quartz," She dropped the crystal in your hand, wrapping your fingers around it and pressing your hand to your chest, wanting you to connect with it and feel its energy, "It will aid to ground you and to release the fears wanting to take control over your Chaos."

The cold chipped crystal dug into the flesh of your palm. It numbed your hand.

"Tell me what you feel."

"I feel... heavy."

Tissaia nodded, deep in thought, rummaged through her chest again, and pulled out a vibrant yellow crystal. She quickly swapped the crystals in your hand, "Citrine, among one of the most potent crystals to release stress and have you enter a state of levity and optimism."

You let it sit in your palm for a while, knowing what she was expecting from you "Nothing... I don't feel a thing."

Once again, Tissaia swapped the crystal for another. This time, it was a lilac-grey one, smooth around the edges but with clear indents and cracks. It was cold against your skin as you thumbed the crystal. It was heavier than the others had been, but it fit nicely in your palm.

"Lepidolite," Tissaia started and smiled gently, sensing the change in your demeanour, "Used to stabilise moods, encourage emotional healing and clear blockages."

"It's warm." Your eyes looked up to see Tissaia had leaned in with delicate excitement on her face after sensing your intrigue, "It wasn't warm before."

"It takes to you."

You played with the crystal a little more, "Is it a fire crystal?"

"It correlates to the element of water, but perhaps that is why it soothes you so." She watched you, "Can you feel its nurturing properties? It often feels like a mother's embrace to me, like all will be well." She realised her mistake when she saw you tense and quickly added, "It contains lithium, like the Waterfall of Blyveth."

"The one that cured the village in Tiele from hysteria centuries ago?"

She nodded, glad you had paid attention in your history classes, "This very crystal comes from the rocks surrounding the waterfall. Lepidolite isn't meant to be subjected to water, but that is what makes this particular one so unique."

You twirled it in your fingers, and Tissaia added, "Do you see the tiny grey lightning bolt veins? The glittery specks contrasting the dark purple and fading away into the light grey? They're scars from the water... and yet it still hasn't crumbled into a thousand tiny pieces."

Not unkindly, she grabbed the crystal out of your hand and dropped it into your emerald sachet, "It is yours to keep now."

Tissaia watched you peer into the sachet when she walked to her designated seat behind her desk again, adjusting the freshly clipped blue hydrangeas in their vase.

"Keep it under your pillow at night to shield you, in your pocket during the day to guide you. Don't neglect its presence or it will start to neglect you. It'll be like a sheen you cannot see, but you can feel."

"Can I add more crystals to it?"

"If you like." Tissaia played with the pendant around her neck, "Oftentimes, mages get necklaces of their favourite one to keep on their skin and close to their heart at all times. "I have a red carnelian in mine."

"For courage, resilience and strength?"

Tissaia nodded, "Very well, sweet girl." She watched as you pulled out the lepidolite once more and got another feel of it in your hands.

She had plucked you from your worst nightmare, had thrust you into a new life with no other choice and had watched you take to it like a fish to water, despite your qualms, defiance and worries. It was true— she'd cared for you the second she'd found you shivering and scarred and had attached herself to your journey. Your mother, whoever she'd been, could be proud of the young woman she had brought up. If only she could see you now and be proud of your strength, perseverance and brilliance. It saddened her that your mother would never meet the woman you would become. It hurt Tissaia that much more to realise that she would never become a mother and experience having a daughter to be proud of herself.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Tissaia had ordered supper to be brought to you in your chamber after your private lesson had pushed you over to the edge of exhaustion. She'd had to give you an herbal concoction for you to even get to your chamber by yourself.

Though the idea of having supper by yourself in your draughty chamber sounded pathetic, you found yourself more at peace than you had in ages. The fire in the hearth slowly flickered and crackled, shooting embers up like dwindling fireflies. It was a quiet evening. The sun started to stay out longer now that Spring was near and you had come to grow fond of the soft lapping sounds of the water below. You could still smell the lingering heavy scent of mugwort on your clothes from when Tissaia had shown you how to cleanse yourself.

Tissaia's book about telepathy lay open on the desk next to you. You turned another page before taking a bite of today's supper.

"The art of communicating through telepathy is born from the ability to sense the energies of those around you. When this connection is made, it is even possible for a mage of somewhat capable stature to sense energy and therefore Chaos, regardless of distance. If the overall connection between mages decreases, the ability to sense their Chaos will gradually diminish. This form of communication was invented by sorcerer Bethel of Tamary before the birth of the first mage communities and has been a well-known and common practice ever since among mages and sorcerers."

You turned the page, where a sketch of two mages filled most of the paper. One of the mages was drawn with outstretched arms, their Chaos painted like a thin golden sheen around them, growing darker the further it neared their core. The other mage had a hand outreached, their fingers barely touching the Chaos of the other and fingers already turning the same shade of gold as that of the other mage's Chaos.

"Everything that lives has an energy field— a form of Chaos. After all, we are not only made of matter, flesh and bones. Our Chaos, and even the energy of non-mages, always extends beyond our physical exterior, such as our body heat. Such an energy field is often called an aura. The energy flows take place between these energy fields. For mages, this means that we can often feel one another's Chaos, and tap into that for our benefit. In this case, for telepathy. People's Chaos sometimes merge with each other for a while, for example when you feel you are with a kindred spirit. You are, as it were, one and the same for a moment in a way that children are often one with their mothers when in their wombs. In some connections, the shared field of Chaos is stronger than the individual one and can be felt and reached even when one is not in eyesight. Sometimes a person's intuition and control over their energy field are an innate fact, but often it is much more agile and open to improvement than one might think."

You hissed when a sudden sharp twitch was felt in your stomach. You pulled up the fabric of your tailored garments and noticed how your scars expanded and retracted with each breath. Triss had healed your wounds weeks ago, and you had just stopped taking the burn elixirs, so you knew this pain was another phantom sensation. Suddenly, you weren't hungry anymore.

You looked up and saw yourself in the mirror perched in front of you on the desk. The young girl whose reflection you'd seen in lake surfaces and the odd dirty mirror on a market was gone. Instead, a young woman, aged by her terrors and trauma and the change and knowledge of her new life looked back at you. It pained you how you didn't recognise yourself anymore, for that meant your family wouldn't either. Perhaps that was for the better, for you to see them as two different versions of yourself. One was blissfully unaware of her future, the other bitterly acquainted with her past. One had seen terror, and was filled with regret and grief at her own actions. The other had been given a second chance, but at what cost?

Was your family here with you now? Was that even possible? Was your mother looking at you with pride in the resilience you'd shown? Was your father's heart aching for the little girl he'd once held for the first time? Were your siblings standing behind you, hovering over your shoulder to keep you company wherever you went? Or were they resenting you that you had been given a new life? A promise to live one of status and power, of great wealth, at the cost of their lives? Would they fear you would forget them and your sacrifice as you turned older and bitter?

You stumbled away from the desk, threw yourself under your covers and clung onto your pillow as the sobs racked your body. You found the sachet on your nightstand and pulled out the lepidolite, but despite Tissaia's words, it could never replace the warmth of your mother's warm embrace.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Tissaia's steel gaze watched as novice upon novice started to fill the room. As expected, Yennefer was the last to appear through the door and trudged to her designated seat in the corner, but the seat in front of her was still vacant. You were nowhere to be seen, and this was the first time you hadn't shown up to a class. First, you hadn't dared to miss one out of fear of breaching your deal with your rectoress, and later out of intrigue for your classes.

"Has anyone seen Y/N?"

"Probably too afraid to show up after yesterday's miserable display in Miss Grethel's class."

"No wonder Rectoress De Vries calls her pup. Even after being her lapdog, she still cannot seem to get anything done."

Yennefer heard Amalie whisper to Jutta. She clenched her teeth and glared at the back of their heads, hoping they could feel her thundering stare.

"Or maybe she magically disappeared like I've heard all the pathetic ones do after the first few months."

"If that were true, you two wouldn't be sitting here now, and Y/N would be sitting in your seat." Yennefer sneered. Amalie and Jutta turned around, snickering behind their hands as they looked at her, clearly unaffected. She sat straighter when they clearly looked at her crooked posture.

"Please, as if."

Yennefer's knuckles went white as she gripped the edges of her table, "You know how hard it is to use your Chaos when you're filled with emotions? No, you don't know, you don't have any, and that's what will make you lousy, useless mages."

"Enough." Tissaia lifted her hand, diffusing the situation, "I asked a simple question that could be answered with yes or no."

A collective 'no' sounded through the classroom.

"Yennefer?" Tissaia tilted her head when the girl had kept quiet. She'd noticed an imperceptible unspoken connection wavering like an invisible cord of Chaos between the two young mages as of late, which she was sure the girls weren't even aware of themselves yet. If there was anyone in Aretuza who you'd started to subconsciously let in, even slightly and superficially because you had to for detention, it was Yennefer.

"No," She muttered through gritted teeth, still reeling. Though, she could not help but feel curious about where you were. She hadn't seen you in the central hall yesterday evening for supper either, no matter how often she'd glimpsed at the entry each time someone had walked in. And now that she thought about it, something felt off. The skin on the back of her neck had been constantly prickling and her stomach had been burning ever since she'd woken up. Her Chaos was restless, waging a war inside of her the more attention she gave it.

Tissaia closed her eyes momentarily, trying to single out every bubble of Chaos currently residing in the tower. It did not take her long to sense yours, as it was screaming and raging and tugging at the borders of its confinement. Something was terribly wrong, and although she had taught you a great deal already, it felt like your emotions were too out of sorts for you to deal with them yourself.

"Everyone- get a set of runes and one of the level three scrolls and stay seated. Study the phrases until I return."

No one dared to defy Tissaia as she glared at each one of them, making sure they got the message.

"Is she in trouble?"

Tissaia heard Yennefer's voice wonder as she walked past. She stopped, stared at the girl, really stared at what was within, and walked out of the classroom, towards your bristling Chaos.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

A sharp pain shot through your temples and numbed your eye sockets, its tension travelling to your jaw and neck. You wanted to tear the skin off your face but were too busy sitting through the shivering of searing white hot heat tearing through your limbs. It was hard to stop yourself from shaking, it was as if someone had put you in the back of a cart driving on a gravelly road. Each inhale drilled an intense pain to the places where you'd been burned that damned day.

It had been like this all morning. It had started last night after you had no more tears left to spill. You'd thought the pounding headache was a result of all your crying, but when the phantom pain picked up and the heat started to simmer through you, you knew something else was going on. It was your absolution, you were certain. You could've yelled for help, though you were sure your whimpers wouldn't have even reached the other side of your chamber, but perhaps this was your end. The Chaos within you was probably spluttering and taking the reigns, burning you from the inside. You would share the fate of your family. And it was okay. You could have peace with that.

Someone else clearly couldn't.

You caught a breath as two arms pulled you out of your heap on the bed and against their torso, delicate hands slapping your clammy and bloody cheeks to keep your burning eyes from falling shut. A handkerchief was pushed against your nose and a smell which you could only describe as a freezing sensation whirled into your nose. You coughed, spluttered and fought against their hold. They were taking your absolution from you, willing you to stay and live with the consequences of your actions.

"No-" You twisted and turned, regaining some of your strength, but sagged against their lap as soon as you heard the muttered incantation. You recognised her voice immediately, though it lacked the usual harshness and sounded more... frantic this time.

Tissaia de Vries.

The incantation immediately did its thing. It was as if you started to float out of your body, and when you fell into a slumber, everything was clouded in darkness.

It could've been minutes, maybe hours, perhaps even days or weeks, but when you opened your eyes, you knew you had been out for longer than what had been expected, going by the wilted flower on the nightstand beside your bed in the infirmary. The fresh smell of the lilac had long ago turned to a sour one, penetrating your nose together with the heavy smells of lavender, sage and incense. Immediately, your throat tightened as you remembered what had happened. For you, it had been no more than a few seconds ago. However, you calmed down when you realised no pain or tension was stirring within you.

The early Spring sun was blaring through the tall window on your right, lighting the infirmary and showing your bed was the only one occupied. It was how you caught a shadow moving and when you realised your rectoress was staring at you from underneath the arch of the doorway.

"You finally felt safe enough to let it all go.''

Her heels clicked on the cold tile floors as she approached your bed.

"I overestimated the potency of your trauma, though I should have realised how such an event would cling to you, despite you concealing it. That miscalculation is on me."

Although exhausted, you managed to sit up, "What?" You hated how much your voice quivered, and how much you sounded like a younger version of you, wanting to cling to your mother like an infant child after a scraped knee.

"You stored what you've been through in your body, locked away because you were thrust onto this new road in an unfamiliar environment. You've been stuck in what some might call a state of constant fight or flight, a state of distress. With everything else going on lately, you have subconsciously shelved your trauma, and it has therefore taken root inside of your body. It shook you awake last week, willing you to deal with it as soon as you finally sensed some resemblance of safety. You are quite fortunate, for it can often take others years to get to that moment of salvation."

Her casual announcement that you had been asleep for over a week flew over your head, "Salvation?!" You spluttered, feeling incredulous, "I don't care. I don't care about any of it."

Her fingers grazed over the sachet next to your head, where you figured your rectoress had put it.

"You experienced the stimulus of the lepidolite."

"Fuck you and your stupid stone," You protested, chest heaving with rage and a new set of unshed tears "Why didn't you just leave me be?!"

"Because the fire still stored inside, the fire within the cells beneath your burns, was threatening to obliterate you. You absorbed the flames of the pillaging going on around you that day to use for the destruction, and some of it has still not left you. Your Chaos has clung to it, like two birds of a feather. It sees it as its equal, as its predecessor and creator... as it was what awakened it... and you were letting it take over."

All these words hurt your head again, or perhaps you simply did not care enough to try to see sense in Tissaia's explanation.

"I fear you will forever have to be cautious not to succumb to the contusion from within, especially when your emotions plummet to a level low enough for your trauma to take the upper hand again. Like a mother giving birth to a babe, you will always be bonded to fire in a way, whether you want to or not."

"You took my freedom from me. Twice."

"Would you rather have been left to die than to see what it'll be like to reach your full potential? Do you really think your parents would rather see you dead among them than living and persisting?" She stood by the edge of your bed, "Is that really what you want? Is that how you want to compensate for their sacrifice? Do you want their deaths to be in vain?"

The window started to rattle in its hinges, your fingers shaking and your breathing ragged as images splayed across your mind. You heard their screams, smelt their melted flesh and hair and saw their figures run around in desperate need to quell the flames. You felt your control gripping out of your reach all over again as you relived their deaths. Then you heard the loud rumble that followed, the sound that had haunted your nights, the one that had left you sitting within the safety of the fire-free ring you'd subconsciously cast around you.

"Do you not want to explore the possibilities of your gift? Many girls would die for a chance to be here, do not be mistaken. They would not give up so easily, they would want to live." She urged.

"Stop talking," Your voice was low, a clear warning that she was on thin ice. You would have never guessed you'd use such a tone on your rectoress again after her icy heart had started to thaw around you, but here you were, begging- no, demanding her to keep her mouth shut. How dare she blame you for not choosing this life. And how dare she berate you for not wanting to live. Because what was the use of life when you were all alone?

"If you are not confronted by it now, then it will happen when you least want it. It will continue to block you from reaching your full potential and keep your terror and aches stored inside until you succumb to it."

It was incredulous, how your rectoress could ever think you would not carry even a little ounce of regret, pain and anguish with you for the rest of your life after your actions. Even after her so-called confrontation. You would never heal from it or forget about it. Nor would you ever forgive yourself. Though, you knew she was right when she said you'd bottled it and put it on a shelf. You'd thought that, perhaps, if you heeded it no mind, the pain and memories would cease to exist. Realisation dawned on you how stupid and naive that thought had been.

Tissaia continued, "It is not a matter of if, but a matter of when you'll succumb to it. This is your blockade, so how do you plan to tackle it?"

You jumped out of bed, surprised by your own agility after a week of being bedridden, albeit unknowingly, "What would you have me do?!" You yelled in Tissaia's face, whose expression didn't falter for even a split second.

"Exactly this." She gestured at your fury and frustration taking over and clearly needing to finally be spilt, "Let it all out now."

"And how do I do that without tearing up the place, like you forewarned me about?!"

"You need to learn to balance your emotions without heading for a collision."

A huff escaped you, "Is this all part of your trial-and-error plight?!"

"It can be. If you let it." She sighed and dared to take a step closer, "Your Chaos is giving you a chance to let it go now, to start anew."

"Didn't you say we are energy, and that our energy is our Chaos?! So how exactly am I giving myself another chance when I can't look past the horrid things I know I am capable of?!"

"Your subconscious has made the decision for you, to push you to accept yourself and let it rest. It has finally let your trauma resurface. Take the chance and do something with it. Heal. Give it a place. Don't let it start to deteriorate you from the inside. Use it as your strength, hold it as a reminder, as a warning. Let it guide your Chaos to know what boundaries to never cross again." Her calm demeanour rubbed you the wrong way.

"Let past... be past." She whispered softly, sensing she'd finally reached you.

A sob curled out of your mouth, and you furiously shook your head,

"I can't."

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Yennefer mindlessly wandered through the halls of Aretuza. Though she rather practised some more, she could feel her bottle was empty. There was no more energy left for today, and perhaps that was okay. It at least gave her the chance to explore.

The past week had been torturous at best, with her classmates singling her out for jests and looks and with Tissaia's full attention on only her now that you were in the infirmary. Your rectoress had informed your class about your whereabouts, simply to stop any rumour that would further badmouth your name. Despite Tissaia's statement, rumour still had it that you were too afraid to show up and persist in your classes. Yennefer wasn't stupid, though, she knew it wasn't just a fever that kept you bedridden. Tissaia had seemed too on edge for that when Yennefer confronted her about it the other day. She'd brushed her off too quickly and hadn't berated her for sticking her nose in someone else business again.

Yennefer knew she'd find out soon. If not by asking you directly once you returned, then by trying to take a peek in your mind. She'd gotten better at it the past week when she'd been paired up with Anikka. The girl had been her first friend at Aretuza and although she still counted Anikka as someone she didn't hate, she had to admit that she didn't really hate you either.

It was boring to have to read books alone and spend hours studying runes by herself without anyone to keep her company the way you had, in silence, without judgement, and with a serenity that had calmed her. She despised herself for it— how she could feel the attachment growing. She loathed it with a burning passion. She detested it even more when she realised where her feet had led her.

Shadows danced across the walls in the orange hues of the torch flames. She locked her jaw and stared down the hallway. No one was around. They were all enjoying their rest in the sun of Aretuza's terraced gardens, no doubt. Spring would soon be upon them.

Yennefer's ears perked when she heard a muffled sound coming from within your chamber. It was odd, as she was sure you were still in the infirmary, but when she realised the muffled sound had been a sharp and wobbly inhale followed by a sob, she realised it had come from you.

She walked less assured as she had done the two times before, caution and care in her steps as she pried open your door. The hinges of the old oak door creaked and whined, and she watched as your teary doe eyes locked with hers in fright. You seemed to settle when you saw it was only Yennefer. The welcoming sense of acceptance she felt when she looked into your eyes came with a tormenting feeling of unworthiness and guilt. Unworthiness, because she knew she didn't deserve the acceptance you seemed to have given her, and guilt, because she felt a weight lift off her shoulder the second she'd stepped into your room, while you seemed anything but cheerful. Still, she could not deny the fact that for some reason, she felt lighter when in your presence.

You quickly wiped your snotty nose with the hem of your sleeve, your fingers going to play with the loose thread on it. With your gaze directed to your lap, where droplets of your tears fell, you held your breath and waited for Yennefer to move or say something. She did neither. Seconds passed and she stood still like a statue, and it got harder and harder to keep your breath and not make a sound.

Utter horror crossed Yennefer's features when you dropped your head in your hands and continued letting the tears fall freely. Your entire body shook and shivered, and the sounds of pure heartache that left your mouth had Yennefer's own heart breaking, too. She wasn't used to seeing people like this, but she knew the feeling all too well.

She approached, hesitantly, step by step, hoping you would yell at her to go away so that she didn't have to worry about what to do with you now. She knew she couldn't leave, she wouldn't, she wasn't that heartless, but what was she to say or do? And would you even accept her comfort, even if it was silent?

Her eyes flit to the blanket forgotten by the foot of your bed. She threw it around your shoulders in a swift motion, then stood by your side feeling the most awkward she'd ever felt.

She hovered. To ask if you were all right was a stupid question, even a blind person could hear you weren't. Asking you what had happened would probably also not be the best thing to ask when you barely had enough air inside your lungs to push out another strangled sob. And were you even close enough for you to spill your worries to her? She hadn't exactly been kind the last time you'd talked, when you had been the one to try and comfort her.

Feeling brave, she dared to sit beside you, leaving enough distance between the two of you for another two people to sit in between. But when you started to heave and cough and battle for air, she scooted closer, laying a hand on your shoulder.

The contact made you look up into Yennefer's violet eyes. They looked at you shadowed by her dark furrowed brows with a tender care you had longed for for weeks. The memory of who had last looked at you like that sent another wave of whimpered sobs to leave you.

"Ssh, breathe," Yennefer whispered, "Breathe."

She squeezed your shoulder, her sense of discomfort gradually fading as she realised you weren't taking unkindly to her touch.

"Rectoress de Vries- she-," You wept, sending a wave of anger through Yennefer at the hint that your rectoress was to blame for your breakdown, "I'm not supposed to live, not after- I don't deserve- I don't want to!"

Yennefer held a pained expression as the words shook out of you.

Your big, teary, red eyes found hers again, and they begged her as if Yennefer was the one able to fulfil your wish, "I want my family back."

Yennefer swallowed, having a sense of the grief you were going through. Despite all these months, she still missed her family as well. She had no idea what had happened that had made you grieve their company this badly, and even if she assumed the worst, it would never come close to the truth.

"I want them back. I want them back. I want-" Yennefer closed the distance and pulled you tight against her chest as you lulled yourself into a state of grieving hysteria. Muttered words got silenced against her shoulder while her garments dried your cheeks. She froze for a split second when your arms clawed their way around her waist. She could feel the dread settle in the pit of her stomach, realising she was letting someone in. But perhaps, this time, if it meant it could soothe you, someone who had been kind to her from the start, it wouldn't be so wrong after all.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

[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.

[starfirewildheart]

Chapter 3

The Wolf and the Flame

Summary: Geralt had just found Ciri and was headed to Kaer Morhen when something drew him into the woods. He found a woman near death and things changed for them all. (I suck at summaries just read please!) Yennefer is bad in the start of this but she and Geralt work on their friendship. Eskel is a dick at first but there is a reason and it works out. Will have a happy ending. Ciri is younger here than in the netflix show. She is about 12.

Warnings: abuse history, injuries, hurt comfort, no one under 18 to be safe, will add when I need to 

Words: 1717

They had been traveling for nearly a week. Naurel was getting stronger but Geralt was still worried. He knew something was not as it should be with her but he couldn't seem to get her to open up about the things that had happened. They came to the last city between them and the final part of the journey to Kaer Morhen. He knew they had to stop and restock supplies. Also, the humans needed a soft bed and warmth for a bit. They left the horses at the stable and walked over to the Inn. Naurel was leaning against him, holding his arm to help support herself or for his warmth, he wasn’t sure which. All he knew was that he didn’t mind it. In fact, he felt at peace when they were touching. 

Ciri heard someone singing inside the bar at the inn and bound up the steps. “It’s Jaskier,” she said excitedly. 

“Ciri,” Gerault sighed as she ran inside ahead of him. “Damn it that girl never listens.” He and  Naurel moved faster to catch up with her. Once inside Geralt grabbed Ciri’s arm and leaned close, whispering something to her that made her shiver and look repentant before he led her and Naurel to a table to sit. “Stay here where I can see you both while I get us a couple of rooms.” 

Naurel waited until he walked away to put her hand on Ciri’s arm that was resting on the table. “You are going to get hurt or end up making him so angry that he’s going to punish you.”

Ciri rolled her eyes. “Please, he’s not my father. I have no family which makes me an adult. I’m in charge of me.”

“You are far from an adult little miss and you are showing that childishness more and more by the day,” Naurel warned. “He cares about you. He worries about you. Stop making it harder for him.” She knew that Geralt was struggling to figure out how to deal with a child. He knew how to deal with a misbehaved witcher but not a young human girl so he just took what she dished out. The yelling, arguing, not listening, stubbornness that she likely got away with as a spoiled little princess and Naurel was losing patients with her. Ciri was a loving girl but she was being a huge brat. She looked up at Geralt as he sat heavily in a chair beside her, noting that he put himself where his back would be up against the wall. “Everything alright?”

He nodded. “Got two rooms with an adjoining door,” he eyed Ciri, “and a large tub.” He grinned when Naurel sighed happily. 

“Mmm, a bath sounds heavenly. Maybe if I boil myself I will actually heat my blood and stop having to steal your warmth,” she smiled at him. 

He reflexively pulled her close. “I don’t mind sharing warmth.”

Ciri made a slight gagging sound drawing their attention. “You two need to get a room.”

“We have a room. Two in fact,” Geralt smirked at her. He loved their teasing banter when she wasn’t driving him mad with worry. Naurel was listening to the two of them and jumped when someone plopped down in a chair near her at the end of the table.

“Geralt you gorgeous beast, who are you lovely friends?”

Geralt shook his head and sighed. “Jaskier,” he nodded in greeting. He let Naurel and Ciri introduce themselves though kept his arm possessively around Naurel. Jaskier was a friend but he was also amorous and for some reason that bothered him where his newest companion was concerned.

“How did two such lovely creatures end up with such a grumpy, silent companion?” Jaskier wondered. 

“He’s not silent nor grumpy,” you smiled at the bard. 

“He’s grumpy and bossy,” Ciri teased. 

The waitress approached and Geralt ordered food for the three of them before joining the conversation. “I’m surprised to find you this far north this close to the snowy season.  I know you hate cold weather.”

“You are right,” Jaskier chuckled. “Oddly enough I’ve been looking for you. You are a very hard witcher to find. You would think with the white hair, yellow eyes, and rippling muscles that you would stand out more.” Naurel chuckled.

“Jaskier,” Geralt grumbled, stopping the bard from babbling. “Why were you looking for me? Is everything alright?” 

“A friend, no, no she’s not a friend she’s a,” he stopped himself before he finished his thought. “Someone we have in common needs to speak with you. She’s rather insistent and very annoying and she keeps following me. I implore you, please speak to her before I throw myself off a cliff.”

Geralt paused as if he was considering the option of speaking to someone or letting him jump, only answering when Jaskier whined indignantly. He had an idea of who the bard was talking about but he wondered why she just didn’t come to him herself. He’d heard that she survived the battle of Sodden from Triss and he was happy to hear his friend was still alive. “Is she here?”

“I’m here,” Yennefer said from behind him. “We need to speak, alone,” she looked at the others pointedly. 

He nodded and stood. “Jaskier, stay with them until I return?”

“Of course,” he smiled as he started asking both of them questions.

Yennefer led Geralt to an out-of-the-way corner near the stairs. She noticed that he positioned himself so that he could still see the table. “I need your help. Something has happened. I’ve searched everywhere, through all the lore about magic and chaos except the books at Kaer Morhen.”

“What are you searching for?”

“A spell,” she lied. “I am searching for a spell to try and help Istredd study the monoliths.” She wasn’t going to expose her weakness to anyone. It was bad enough that the old woman was in her head calling to her, telling her to bring both the woman and the girl to her; she wasn’t about to tell him she had lost her ability to do magic as well.

“Why doesn’t that ring true to me?” Geralt gave her a look.

“Fine, don’t help me,” she hissed and started to walk away.

“Yennefer,” he stopped her. “Portal to Kaer Morhen. Vesemir is willing to work with sorceresses and mages. He will show you the books you are looking for.”

“Why don’t we just travel together?” she asked. “Seems like you seem to be gathering a rather large party on your journey,” she eyed his new friends. “I could help you look after them. They both seem sort of defenseless.”

He could use some help protecting them since Ciri seemed to be so dead set on getting herself hurt. Maybe with Yennefer’s magic, he could actually rest a bit. “You want to travel, on foot, in the cold. You know it will be snowing soon?”

“Please witcher, the weather does not bother me,” she scoffed and walked back to the group at the table. She made sure to place herself next to Naurel where Geralt had been. Jealousy made her blood boil when she noticed how Geralt looked at the woman. The witcher and his new child suprise were supposed to be her family, not this woman's. She was tired of life screwing her over and giving everyone else what was rightfully hers.

Geralt frowned but sat next to Ciri. “Yennefer has decided to join us for the rest of our journey home.” Naurel looked into his eyes in question but didn’t speak, Jaskier however did.

“I’m going to then,” he insisted.

“I thought you wanted to be rid of her?” Geralt asked.

“Rid of me?” Yennefer scoffed. “I saved your life.”

“No, you distracted him so I could run. That’s not saving me, that's being a tease,” Jaskier argued. Ciri laughed at the two of them.

Their food was served and Naurel picked a small piece off of her bread and ate it as she listened to Jaskier tell stories of his time with Geralt. The bard was funny and he had kind eyes. She liked him. She could see how he would get on Geralt’s nerves though with his knack for babbling and Geralt being stoic and quiet.

‘The redhead! Bring the red head’ the deathless mother screamed in her head over and over. It was becoming hard to ignore but she pushed it to the back of her mind and continued on with the conversation. “Awe you left out the story of how the three of us met,” Yennefer interjected. “All bloody and dying because of the Djinn. Geralt, ever the protector, riding in to find me to save you.” She saw the muscles in Geralt’s jaw flex as he clenched his teeth.

“Well, he ended up saving you too,” Jaskier snapped. “More than saving you if I remember correctly.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed.

The bard looked up and quickly realized he’d said too much. “But he came to his senses!”

She closed the door behind her before laying on the bed next to her friend. “He thought she was dead,” she explained softly. She wanted to be sure she knew Geralt had not intentionally tried to hurt her though Ciri never realized that Yennefer and Geralt were mates.

“I know,” her voice choked as she lost her battle with her tears. “It’s my fault,” she repeated to herself more than Ciri. She took the comfort Ciri offered and allowed the young girl to play with her hair before she ran over to the chamber pot and vomited.

Wolf and flame tag list

@kneelforloki

@shellyshellshell

[winters-mistress]

It all starts so quick, that's perhaps why Geralt is so frustrated with himself that he didn't notice it earlier. He's a witcher, for fuck's sake, he can hear a butterfly's wing from miles away, so why didn't he notice this?

He, Jaskier, Yennefer and Ciri had left the safety of Kaer Morhen after the girl was recovered from her fever and fainting, post Voleth Meir attack. Perhaps he thought she was okay, that she was healed? He hadn't even considered the fragility of a human child when graced with the almighty power that his daughter possessed. In truth, his denial makes the hole in his chest only deeper as he looks at her. He should have noticed sooner, they'd been riding on not-Roach together for days, he should have noticed the warmth of her skin and the haze of her eyes long before she'd fainted into the same arms that used to keep her so tightly bared in when they would ride, eager to keep his daughter safe from that who would harm her.

How hadn't he realised that there were so many dangers that didn't include Mages, Kings, Nilfguaard and the Wild Hunt?

Because his daughter, who was so strong and brave, was laying limply at his side, covered by cloaks and blankets and whatever Yennefer could conjure, her skin deathly pale apart from the two large blotches of red upon her cheeks. She looks so small, a folded blanket underneath her head to make a pillow, buried underneath a mountain of rags in an effort to break the fever that was simultaneously impressive and deeply concerning.

He didn't know what to do. Nilfgaardian soldiers that wishes to take his child? Simple, kill them. Mages? Yennefer can handle them. Kings? Jaskier can charm them as well as any courtesan, but this? Geralt had never felt more helpless than he did now, watching her lay there, large drips of sweat trickling down the sides of her neck. He listens to the wheeze of her breath, comforted by the confirmation that she's still here, still okay. That she's still with him, after all they went through.

The air is cold, because of course it is. It's January, they're in the North, inches of snow burry the four of them in, circled in a camp that Yennefer had cleared when they'd realised that the girl was unwell. Geralt can see the breath in front of his face, leaning back against the tree that mirrors his spine, glancing at his girl once again, before passing a glance at Yennefer and Jask.

The bard is sleeping loudly, snores echoing in the small orb of protection that Yennefer casts every morning. Are they invisible? Do any passers by see themselves, or just an echo of the woods.

Geralt had Axii'd the bard into sleep. He was exhausted, but worried enough to fight it with his worry of the girl he had grown fond of in their brief time in the witcher keep. The white haired witcher is a warrior, born and bread, and has the capability of staying awake for days at a time. The bard, as human as he was, was not, and all it took was a quick cast until the bard snored happily.

Yennefer is a different equation all together. The first few days, post betrayal, Geralt hadn't let ciri out of his sight, too worried that she would be taken away again. It's been almost three weeks, and Geralt still cannot find peace in sleep with Yennefer so close to his child. And now, with Cirilla being as vulnerable as she is, the last thing on Geralt's mind is to take rest. He had never felt a purpose like this, to protect his child with everything within him. The only time he had let her slip to being second in his heart, Yennefer had taken her away and was only stopped causing the girl's death by the girl herself. He would never make that mistake again. Asleep, Yennefer may be. Yes, she may have had a hand in defeating the demon and freeing his girl. But never again will he let his guard down when the sorcerers is so close.

He has too many thoughts of the girl being dragged from his arms, the scent of lilac and gooseberries high in his nose.

No. Geralt decides, clenching his fist, the other hand laying protectively on Cirilla's stomach, feeling it rise and fall. He will never let her be take from him again.

The girl's breathing changes suddenly, shuddering and stuttering like it does when she's trapped within the depths of her own mind, of the horrors she'd endured since the slaughter of her homeland. Her head moves to the side, sounds falling from her throat even in unconsciousness.

Geralt's full attention snaps to her, he shifts foreward to be on his knees next to her, the backs of his fingers sliding down her cheeks, accompanying the tears that fall.

Too hot. Still far too hot.

Her heat can rival his own, and it feels like a fist in his gut.

"Cirilla." his voice is gruff from lack of use, deep and raspy, while her own is choked and throaty, speaking of thirst and congestion. "Cirilla, I am here. Do not be afraid, little one."

Slowly, the girls jerking limbs cease movement, and she settles in her makeshift bed of rags and moss and bark. So much less than what she deserves.

Her breathing changes again, and she looks towards him, eyes still closed.

"Cub?" He asks, licking his lips. "Pup?"

Her breathing is shaky, her heartbeat slightly quicker. And much to his relief, she opens her eyes.

"Ciri," Geralt breathes. Thank Melitele. She's here, she's safe, she's with him still. A hand slides to her cheek, the other laying on her ribs.

Ciri says nothing for a moment, looking around at the dark woodlands, before she looks at him again.

"Gr'alt" she whispers. He smiles, relief flooding through him.

He knows, he should get Yennefer, wake her so she can whisper spells to heal the child, wake Jask so he can sleep without worry or magical influence, but he cannot bring himself to remove himself from her just yet.

"Ciri," he smiles. "Sweet girl, we've been worried."

Ciri says nothing, only shifts to sit up. He helps, a hand supporting her back, the other supporting the weight of her front.

She slumps against him, exhausted from sickness. Her head falls to her neck, and he presses a kiss to her sweaty hair.

"Gr'alt" she whispers again, tilting her face to meet her own.

"I'm here, sweet girl. I'm here." Geralt says, pressing his waterskin to her lips so she may drink the cold water.

Ciri does so with eagerness, although her sips are small, no doubt due to a sore throat.

She slumps against him again when she's done, a hand finding his.

It's a strange impulse he has, to kiss her fingers, but he does it anyway, because it must bring her some sort of comfort, right? People like that sort of thing.

"It's alright, pup. We'll get you feeling better soon" he says, pressing his hand to her brow once again. Too hot and clammy, but he can fix that with willowbark and lavender.

Ciri opens her mouth to speak, but her eyes flutter shut before she can.

"It's okay, Ciri. Just sleep, you must rest." He says, laying her back down in her nest.

Before he can turn to get her another wet rag for her brow, the witcher feels her hand at his wrist. Small, with the start of callouses from the blade training.

He looks at her, earnest.

"Papa." she whispers. "'nk you" she mumbled, before falling into sleep once again, her grip on his wrist going slack.

Now, Geralt's chest feels like it's going to explode for a different reason.

[thedemonofcat]

Since Yennefer possessed the ability to read minds, Geralt found solace in not having to vocalize his feelings to her. He relied on her innate understanding of his love for her, as he was not one to express himself verbally.

When Geralt and Jaskier eventually became involved, it wasn't through any elaborate romantic gesture. Rather, it stemmed from casual nights of drinking that evolved into intimate encounters, gradually becoming a regular occurrence.

Perhaps Geralt had grown accustomed to the comfort of being with someone who could discern his thoughts, leading him to never explicitly express his love for Jaskier beyond their physical relationship.

Meanwhile, Jaskier grappled with the notion that Geralt might view their relationship solely as a physical one, leading him to refrain from communicating his discomfort or pain during their intimate moments.

[angelellipsis-devilofdots]

a long list of songs that remind me of the witcher

okay i started this way too late at night when i was in a witcher mood so here we go, here's a deadass masterlist of some of the songs that remind me of the witcher (some might be a stretch but WHO CARES, not me)

[ SPOILERS AHEAD !! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED ]

ciri

nobody by the crane wives because of her and mistle

little astronaut by aku p

rose by the oh hellos mainly because of the lines "wars are raising for her" but also some other parts, this one is a stretch

take me to war by the crane wives reminds me vaguely of her during the voleth meir possession, but just her in general

run baby run by the rigs

welly boots by the amazing devil can't fully explain why, it just feels right

soldier, poet, king by the oh hellos she's the king, of course

hard times by ethel cain

eat you alive by the oh hellos

jaskier / dandelion

blossoms by the amazing devil season 2 character arc

the old witch sleep and the good man grace by the amazing devil season 2 character arc again

soldier, poet, king by the oh hellos the poet, for obvious reasons

dandelion by gabbie hanna

dear fellow traveler by sea wolf don't know why. it just seems like the kind of situation he'd get into

rule #35 - microphone by fish in a birdcage kind of reminds me of his plot in blood origin? i didn't like that show either i just love him

little lion man by mumford & sons reminds me of season 3 when he has to tell geralt that "ciri" was taken by nilfgaard

rule #2 - moonlight by fish in a birdcage just him being a golden retriever when he hyperfixates on a person

geralt

blood upon the snow by hozier and bear mccreary

soldier, poet, king by the oh hellos as the soldier

the wolf by the crane wives

yennefer

as good a reason by paris paloma

tongues & teeth by the crane wives i don't know it's just? her?? can't articulate it but it's her

burn your village by kiki rockwell well well, if it isn't the embodiment of yennefer of vengerberg

pray by the amazing devil

pretty little things by the crane wives

the horror and the wild by the amazing devil

yenralt

the angel of small death and the codeine scene by hozier

i want to live by borislav slavov

wild blue yonder by the amazing devil

danse macabre by the oh hellos i know it's instrumental but. hear me out. it reminds me of the melange

like real people do by hozier

radskier

rule #7 - angel tango by fish in a birdcage

caesar by the oh hellos (i have zero reasoning other than i've always imagined the song to an animatic of literally any kind of gay betrayal i DONT KNOW WHY its not at all relevant to the song)

no light, no light by florence + the machine

i want to live by borislav slavov

the garden by the crane wives

yennefer and ciri

arsonist's lullabye by hozier

burn your village by kiki rockwell but under different reasoning this time, so hear me out - "i am the vengeful daughter of the witch." In this essay I will

geralt and ciri

everybody wants to rule the world by lorde - or tears for fears since it's the original of course, i just feel like the lorde version is more fitting for the dark & dramatic tone of the witcher

rule #9 - child of the stars by fish in a birdcage

space song by beach house i think just because of the lines "it will take a while to make you smile" and "were you ever lost? was she ever found?" once again, a stretch

jaskier and ciri

inkpot gods by the amazing devil in the sense of their adorable uncle/niece dynamic (i interpret this song in a familial way in most contexts). it could also very well be a geralt and ciri song

that's all i can think of at the moment. i tried to look for geraskier but i couldn't find anything yet. reblog with songs that remind you of the witcher and i'll add them, this list will be updated as i think of more

[ladyannemarie5]

So... Remember my old post of WarLord!Geralt searching for the bard and discovering that Jaskier is Radovid's consort in Redania?

You can see it here

Well, I couldn't stop thinking about that and here's just part of what I've come up with so far. 

Caution: Lots and lots of text. Almost 2k words.

-----

Geralt's first formal order as Warlord of the North is to search the continent for the bard Jaskier.

Five years have passed since Geralt last saw Jaskier. Five years since the mountain disaster and the day Geralt made the bard believe that the greatest blessing of his life would be to get rid of him.

Since then, Geralt has found his surprise child, resolved his issues with Yennefer and formed a new empire under his and the other witchers' command. And there hasn't been a single moment when he hasn't regretted pushing his bard away. 

That is why, as soon as political things settle down and his mainly non-human subjects begin to form real households, the new warlord sends all available people to search for the man who made him White Wolf.

He knows from Yen, that Jaskier became the Sandpiper, so he has the witchers approach the smuggling network to help the refugees get to his new realm and also to gather as much information as they can about the poet's whereabouts. 

They hear rumors and whispers about the famous bard Jaskier singing in taverns and famous courts, but every time they reach the last place where he was seen, it turns out that the bard has already departed. It also seems that 20 years at the side of a witcher have made him very good at running away from them without a trace. 

Geralt grows more desperate by the day. He wants to apologize to Jaskier, he wants to tell him how sorry he is and how much he wants him to come back to him, because he is finally ready to stop running away from his feelings. He needs Jaskier by his side, either as his lover or simply as his friend. He just needs to know that the poet is safe and sound.

That's why his heartbeat stops for a moment when new information arrives from the bard. It turns out that Nilfgaard beat him to it and captured Jaskier months ago. 

Geralt moves all his people to search for the place where the bard is being held prisoner until they finally find the small fort where their sources say he is. Geralt himself leads the attack.

Everyone is really confused when they break through the entrances and discover that there is no one alive there. There are only remnants that there was once a small army operating in the place but they fled some time ago. 

Unfortunately, there are also remnants of torture in one of the fort's dungeons. Geralt feels an immense urge to vomit as he enters the place and the smell of Jaskier's blood reaches his nostrils. His eyes sting with tears of anger and sadness when he finds a piece of blue silk in one of the corners. His anger and grief increase when they find a funeral pyre on the outskirts of the site. Jaskier is gone forever.

Shortly thereafter, the University of Oxenfurt issues a statement mourning the death of its greatest teacher and legend, the bard Jaskier. Apparently, a Redanian convoy was on a reconnaissance mission when they found a fort with remnants of Nilfgaard troops. Upon entering they discovered that the soldiers had already left but had left the body of a man in one of the dungeons. One of the men, apparently a fan of the bard, recognized his belongings and alerted his superiors to the man's identity. Jaskier's body was burned by the Redanians due to the advanced state of decomposition. All that remained was a broken elven lute that was given to the university as proof of the poet's death.  

Geralt demands that the lute be given to him. Eskel and Lambert are required to hold it when the dean refuses to give the instrument to the witcher on the grounds that Jaskier himself had left them to them in his will. The document firmly states that all of the bard's possessions were to pass to the university to dispose of as they see fit. 

Geralt cries for the first time in years when he finds out. Officially, he has nothing left of his bard. 

The Sandpiper network continues to operate as usual, at least for a while since the discovery of the fort, until something incredible happens: Redania enacts a new law saying that all elves, dwarves and other non-humans would no longer be persecuted, and could even choose to be legal citizens of Redania. 

Years pass since then. Ciri, Yen, Triss and his brother witchers remain by his side and life on the continent continues almost unchanged as the White Wolf finishes consolidating himself as a monarch of a strong and prosperous territory. The hope that Jaskier will one day appear alive and singing about the Warlord every day fades. They hadn't seen the body and when Yen wanted to use a tracking spell with the lute just to make sure, it led to nothing.

And then politics suffers another attack: King Vizimir of Redania is murdered. Yen says that rumors point to his own brother, Prince Radovid, being the one who murdered him, as he was crowned that very night at the side of his lover, a random nobleman named Julian. Geralt does not doubt it. Humans are cruel and ambitious.

The obligatory mourning passes slowly, one day all the kingdoms (except Nilfgaard) are summoned to celebrate the new king and his consort. To the surprise of everyone in Kaer Morhen, the White Wolf and his entourage are invited to the celebrations. Yen and Triss say that it would be rude not to go, as Redania fully recognizes their kingdom unlike other territories, so it would be beneficial for Geralt to attend and seal ties with a kingdom as powerful as Redania. 

Geralt wants nothing more than to stay in Kaer Morhen and continue to evade the outside world. Jaskier is no longer in it so there is nothing interesting out there. But he knows it's inevitable that he will attend the Redania celebrations, and Yen is right, it's a great opportunity. So he and his entourage leave for the kingdom. 

They are greeted in a grand manner, just like any other monarch and his entourage. Redania has shown that he wants to form ties with Kaer Morhen, so Geralt decides that he will do his best to make it all go well. It seems that King Radovid himself and his consort will welcome them once they have settled in properly. 

Geralt feels all the air leave his lungs, his head feels heavy and in turmoil, and he thinks he will burn Redania to the ground for such an offense. Next to King Radovid, stands a man with blue eyes and brown hair. A man resembling Jaskier stands right there, his arm resting on the king's arm. 

He introduces himself as Julian Alfred Pankratz, formerly Viscount of Lettenhove, now royal consort to King Radovid.

Yen cannot help but advance to him with a murderous look. He magically probes him and in an icy voice lets them all know that he really is Jaskier, the bard dead years ago. Julian replies that it's really good to see everyone once again. 

The welcome feast begins. Geralt can't take his eyes off Jaskier. The king and his consort act like any normal couple, both conversing with each other, together and very intimate. Geralt feels his stomach churn. 

At some point in the night, Julian manages to sneak into Geralt's room. He silently asks the Witcher to verify that no one is listening and that there are no traces of magic around. Geralt confirms that they are alone. 

Geralt has many questions, but he can't say any. Not with the man he thought was dead in front of him. But he finally gets something out of his mouth, asking for explanations. 

Julian tells the witcher that after the mountain he traveled for a while by himself, but seeing the injustices to the elves and other non-humans made him want to do something. With his contacts in the RSS he became the Sandpiper. He would go back and forth from Oxenfurt to other places on the continent to recruit new people into the network. During his stays in Oxenfurt and thanks to Philippa and Dijkstra, he met Prince Radovid. 

Geralt's heart breaks when he hears from the bard how lonely and desperate he felt until Radovid came into his life.

"By the time I realized it, I was lost and hopelessly in love with Radovid," he tells Geralt. 

The warlord can't help but mention that the bard fell in love with a king-killer. Julian jumps to his consort's defense and tells Geralt everything. 

Philippa and Dijkstra want to take Redania to war against Nilfgaard, they assassinated Queen Hedwig to make Vizimir give in to their advice, however, the king didn't. The two councilors then went to harass Jaskier, threatening his job as the Sandpiper to tell them the location of Geralt and Ciri, so they could use it as political leverage against Nilfgaard. Of course the bard refused. 

So Jaskier was kidnapped and tortured by Nilfgaard to find out the location of Geralt and Ciri. Radovid, madly in love and worried about Jaskier, set out to look for him everywhere, until he was finally found dying in the fort. Philippa and her magic saved him. 

Radovid, concerned for the bard's safety, proposed to him to fake his death in order to drive away all those who were looking for him, including the man who despised him on a mountain. Jaskier accepted on the condition that he stop pursuing the elves. 

As the announcement of Jaskier's death shook the entire continent, he and the prince planned to leave the castle and travel together, away from the intrigues of the court. Vizimir, happy for his brother, immediately agreed to let them both leave as long as they accepted his help and communicated constantly. The night of their departure, Vizimir was assassinated. 

Geralt is shaken when Jaskier tells him that Philippa and Dijkstra killed Vizimir so they could manipulate Radovid and take Redania to war. The new king is stalling as long as possible, but there is no denying the influence of both advisors on the king's decisions. Geralt snarls when he learns that the sorceress and spymaster are threatening the former bard's life to make Radovid do as they command. 

Jaskier knows that Geralt hates him, that he is not complying with the one thing he has asked of him, but he needs him to get Dijkstra and Philippa out of the picture so he can save Redania and his lover from going to war. And so he lets the witcher know. 

------

And well, that's it. At least until now. 

I want to clarify that anyone who wants to write this has my absolute permission to do so, just tell me so I can read it because I definitely don't think I'll write it myself. If you want to comment on something, another idea, another point, an insult, change something to this. etc., you are welcome to do so. I don't usually reply much but I really do read everything posted on Tumblr. 

Thanks if you read all this verbal vomit and apologies once again for the huge amount of words.

[lodgeofeilhart]

@yennaia1313

Saw this picture and thought of you!!! Yennefer is so possessive!

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 8

Chapter 7

"Thank you," you say to Geralt, taking his hand in yours from the tub.

Geralt nods and stands up, fixing to remove his clothing so he could join you. Knowing what he was up to, you move up forward so he could get in behind you.

You lean into him, your back meeting his chest.

"I need to talk to Ciri," you say, "Let her know how sorry I am." "She's resting right now," Geralt says, "you can tell her in the morning. Besides, she probably already knows how sorry you are."

You sigh a bit, and turn to face the man, "if you don't mind, Geralt, I'd like to forget about all this at the moment."

Nodding, Geralt leans back against the tub, relaxing as he lets you get on his lap. You start feeling up and down his body, eventually one hand weaving through his hair and another reaching for his groin.

The witcher grunted as you started to work him. In return, Geralt took one hand and snuck it between your legs, rubbing circles where you would feel the most pleasure.

This continued until he eventually came, with you not following too far behind. You lean into Geralt's chest, relaxing from that little session.

He helps you out of the tub and to dry off, before he carries you to the bed.

Once Geralt was laying on his back, you rest your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around your, pressing a kiss to your head.

"You've been so good to me, Geralt," you mutter as you're about to fall asleep, "I love you."

Geralt's eyes widen a bit as this was the first time you ever told him that. It was this moment, he realized how much he's come to love you too; it was different from the kind of love he felt for Yennefer, it wasn't artificially constructed from a demonic magical monster, it was real and organic.

He was about to say it back, but noticed you were already deep in sleep. He sighed a bit, resting his head back on the pillow. He would have plenty of time to express his feelings in the morning.

----------meanwhile------------------

While you and Geralt were carrying on with your splish-splash sexy fun times, some people in the keep were off doing their own thing.

After putting Ciri to bed, Eskel, Coen, and Lambert went to the village down below to have their own fun at the taverns and/or brothels.

Vesemir had stayed to look into something.

After putting Aemma to bed, the elder witcher had retreated to the library for some extra studying.

There was something he needed to look into concerning the possible origins of your daughter's paternal side of the family, but unfortunately, no such books were available in Kaer Morhen. Even if the library was still intact from the sacking that took place decades ago, the School of the Wolf was never interested in educating its students in history, especially history outside the Continent.

Nevertheless, after that episode of yours earlier today, Vesemir had felt this was something that needed to be looked into.

Luckily Tris was able to help in that department by borrowing several promises texts from the library in Aretuza.

Vesemir currently had two texts before him, one that described the complete history of Westeros, and another on a history on the origins of dragons. The last one, Vesemir found to be an odd choice, but accepted it nonetheless.

He opened the fist book, quickly scanning through the first couple chapters until he got to the descriptions of the current ruling house of this particular realm. Pictures of people with silver blonde hair and violet eyes were scattered over the pages amongst the writing.

Silver hair and violet eyes...just like Aemma's, Vesemir thinks.

The old man didn't quite want to believe it, but if his suspicions were correct, there was a possibility your daughter may possess royal blood within her veins, and not just that, it was blood of a house whose origins could be traced to a place and time that was long gone. Remnants of a bygone era that was once ruled by dragons and dragon riders, as evident in the emblem of the three headed dragon. 

Vesemir then skipped to the last bit of the book to the present to learn more of the current ruling monarch of the Seven Kingdoms.

----------flashback: the Red Keep----------------

"(y/n)?" you hear Rhaenyra speak to you. You were educating her on the kingdoms across the Continent, and this was the moment you felt your stomach turn again.

You manage to shake it off once your heard the princess get your attention, "Oh, forgive me, princess," you tell her, "I uh, I was feeling nauseated, but I'm alright now. Where were we?"

"I believe we were discussing Redania," Rhaenyra answers.

"Oh right, Redania," you say, pointing to the map, "The eagle in a sea of red and gold. The current ruling monarch of that kingdom is Vizimir, but if a match was to be made, you would probably be betrothed to his brother, Prince Radovid." "Does he have a court mage?" the princess asks. "Ah, Phillipa Eilhart," you say, "from what I've heard, she specializes in polymorphism magic." Rhaenyra gave you a confused look, "she can shift her appearance," you explain, "like animals."

"Fascinating," the princess says, looking at the map again, "what about Cintra? Any prospects there?" "You really want to consider Cintra as a prospect?" you snort, "or would you see this as an opportunity to meet the Lioness herself?"

"...perhaps," Rhaenyra admits, averting her gaze, "She sounds like a woman to admire. She's fought in battles and wears armor like a man would. Much like the wives of my forebear Aegon the Conqueror."

"Well, Queen Calanthe I don't imagine would be looking for any matches right now," you admit, "it took years for her to marry off her own daughter and many more to say yes to her current husband from Skellige. Besides she doesn't have any sons. The Princess Pavetta died in a tragic accident years ago. The Queen is survived by her granddaughter, Princess Cirilla."

"Cirilla," Rhaenyra repeats, "A beautiful name."

"Yes, I suppose it-" you feel your stomach turn again. "Are you alright?" Rhaenyra asks with concern.

"Yeah," you say, standing, bending over a bit, "Excuse me, princess."

You rush over to the open window and hurl the contents of your stomach once more.

"Are you unwell, (y/n)?" Rhaenyra rushes over to pull your hair back as you hurl again, "If I recall, this is what got you in trouble yesterday."

You recall back to yesterday when you got sick. Then you think back to how long this sickness has been going on. It's been on and off for the last several weeks...now that you think about this had been going on for nearly two months, since the day Daemon left and Rhaenyra was named new heir to the Iron Throne.

"Perhaps I am not," you admit, wiping your mouth. Rhaenyra goes to pour some tea so as to help you rinse your mouth, "I don't feel well, now that I think about it." "You should go back to your quarters then to get some rest," the princess suggests. "I'll be fine," you assure. "No," Rhaenyra insists, "I won't have my personal bard fall over on me when she clearly needs rest. I'm ordering you to return to your quarters and do so. You're dismissed, (y/n)."

You see the serious look on Rhaenyra's face, "As you wish princess," you nod.

You go back to your room and put your lute on the table and lay on the bed. You look to the side and see the cloth you had placed out in case your monthly moon's blood was to start. You had been expecting it to start any day now, but you were still waiting.

Now that you think about it even more, it was like this last month; you had been waiting, but your moon's blood never came.

You haven't bled for nearly two months and you've been getting sick on and off for nearly that same length of time.

You sit up, your eyes widen as you consider the possibility. You instinctively place a hand to your stomach, it suddenly feeling fuller then it had been before. It was the same area Caraxes had placed his snout the day Daemon left, the day you broke away from him.

No, you shake your head in denial, this wasn't possible. You'd been drinking the moon tea the servants brought every other night or so during your little dalliance.

Well, maybe you weren't always diligent as you may have had a few cups of wine before those times and may have forgotten as a result....

Either that, or Daemon's seed is just as stubborn as he is.

You go to your wardrobe, where you find the sack of gold coins you keep hidden, and pull out a few. You were going to need to find a maester or a physician to confirm what you were suspecting...and you were going to need them to be discrete. Hence the reason why you take out a few more extra gold coins. 

-----------end of flashback-------------------------------------

The following morning, you stir a bit and stretch, keeping your eyes closed.

You feel Geralt wrap an arm around you, pulling you into him. You could also feel something else going on between his legs. You grind against him, teasing him further when you reach back to grab him and work his already hardening length.

Geralt grunted in response, you unable to suppress a giggle. He then coaxes you to lay on your belly. He kisses your shoulder as he slowly teases your entrance. You groan out impatiently, pressing your ass against him, hoping he'll get the picture and take you.

He sneaks a hand between your legs, rubbing circles like he did last night. You were a moaning mess by the time he pulled his fingers away and slowly slid into you, ravaging you from behind.

It was slow and lazy, just the perfect way to start the day, you think to yourself.

You were about to finish, when Geralt suddenly stops. "Geralt!" you whine, but he shushes you.

A few moments later, a knock was heard at the door.

"Oi, Geralt," you hear Lambert's voice, "some fucking nonce with a lute just arrived at the keep, he says he knows you. (y/n) too."

You groan a little, knowing who it was, "of course," you mutter, "leave it to my brother to spoil some morning fun."

Geralt kissed your shoulder again, "can you keep him occupied for a little while longer?" the man asks.

"We've been keeping him busy for the last hour or so," Lambert exasperates, "he's starting to get even on Eskel's nerves right now. Don't expect any of us to keep at it just the two of you can spend the morning getting your fucking leg over!"

You feel your face blush from that statement. You groan, hiding your face in the pillow. "Well be there shortly," Geralt says, getting up from the bed.

You weren't done yet, though. You sit up, sticking your hand between your legs. "What are you doing?" Geralt asks, chuckling a bit as he gets his trousers on. "I'm not about to let my idiot of a brother with poor timing stop me from getting what I want," you say with determination, working yourself, "I had every intention to get off, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

----------------------------

While you and Geralt were getting ready, Jaskier had been busy figuratively chewing off the witchers' ears off with random things.

There had never been a more collective sigh of relief from the wolves when you walked in fully clothed.

You were still a little miffed that your brother had ruined your morning fun, but were still happy nonetheless to see him.

"Hey," you rush over to give Jaskier a big hug. "(y/n), it's so good to see you again," Jaskier says, looking down, "and no baby in the belly this time. I assume my niece or nephew managed to come out alright."

"Your niece is doing just fine, sweet brother." "You have a daughter, congratulations," Jaskier smiles in joy, "where is the little tyke? I'm sure she's dying to meet her Uncle Jaskier." "Well she's only a few months old, so maybe not," you admit, "But I'll go get her."

You run past Geralt, whom you noticed was hiding a little around the corner. You had some idea as to why. He and the Bard hadn't exactly spoken since that time on the mountain, when Geralt basically told your brother to fuck off.

"You know you won't be able to hide from you forever," you point out. "I'm not hiding," Geralt scoffs. "Really? Looks like hiding to me," you smirk, "come on, Geralt, I've never taken you for the cowardly type, you've been more one to face your problems head on."

"Hmm," Geralt groans a little. "Just talk to him," you insist, "I'm sure he'll be forgiving. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get Aemma up so she can meet her uncle."

You walk down to where Aemma's crib was located.

To your surprise, you see Ciri by the crib with a strange look on her face. She seemed to be staring at your daughter, but her eyes looked blank, like she was really staring off into space.

"Ciri?" You get her attention back to reality.

"Oh, uh, good morning," she says, shaking her head and getting back on her feet. "Is everything, alright, sweetie?" you ask her as you go to get Aemma from her crib. "Yeah, I'm fine," she assures, "I uh, I just...never mind. I had some trouble sleeping last night."

"Was it a bad dream?" you ask her. "I...don't know," she admits.

Ciri didn't say anything to you, but she was still thinking back to last night when she had that vision. She saw a giant, slender red dragon flying in the sky, and she was pretty sure she saw a man in armor with a dragonesque helmet astride the dragon.

The young girl didn't know what this meant, but looking at Aemma in your arms, she had a feeling the two of you were somehow involved.

Ciri placed her hand on Aemma's back, which took you by surprise, "I'm not going to let anything happen to you," she whispers to your daughter.

You frowned in confusion by this girl's small declaration but shrug it off as you and her take Aemma to the main hall of the keep.

Chapter 9

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