#re: tissaia de vries

[flowers-shouldnt-die]

Metamorphosis

Chapter 2

Pairing: Vilgefortz of Roggeveen/Tissaia de Vries

Trigger warnings: suicide attempt, depression, a "complicated" relationship, most likely some smut in the future, stockholm syndrome-ish maybe, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no-comfort. Some fluff peppered in somewhere.

Rating: M

Summary: When is love turning into an obsession? When does forgetting feel better than forgiveness? What are these two idiots doing?

He is spiraling; she has already spiraled. Witness him slowly embracing his obsession.

On the bright side, she is not dead.

Chapter summary:

♫This could be the start of something new/It feels so right to be here with you/And now looking in your eyes/I feel in my heart/The start of something new♫

jkjk although this is the start of babygirl's Stockholm Syndrome. and Vilg kinda totally accepted his obsession✨

Oh yeah and there's some blood in this chapter as well. And a whole ass meltdown. I feel like it was time girlie let it all out.

The days have washed together, even for Vilgefortz. It was the consequence of pain, he figured. The doctors reassured him again and again that Tissaia’s condition was mostly because of exhaustion. Still, it did nothing to ease his mind. She was barely awake for a short while, and now the relentless fever tormented her. His duties awaited him, and he couldn’t bring himself to leave her side despite all he needed to do. He marveled at her ability to stop him finally. Well, more or less. He still needed to find the real princess, but his men were working on that. His research with the Book of Monoliths was left unattended; he only read the book every once in a while when she seemed like she was doing better. He could have easily made Istredd study it, whether he liked it or not, but that would make him leave Tissaia’s side, and he couldn’t bring himself to do that. This was ridiculous; he did leave her behind before. Vilgefortz tried to convince himself that he was not making sense, and besides, she didn’t want to be near him. He would have been all right living in a world where they were enemies, as long as she was alive. Knowing she didn’t want to live anymore felt… unthinkable. Unbelievable. The Continent was not complete without her. So he stayed and did his best to stop the fever that burned her, but as the days turned into a week and some, his heart grew heavier with each passing moment.

As Tissaia drifted in and out of consciousness, she stirred restlessly in her sleep, her brow furrowed with feverish dreams. Her mind wandered, and images flickered like shadows dancing in the firelight, elusive and haunting. She couldn't quite grasp onto them like a ship navigating through turbulent waters. In her delirium, she saw flashes of battles, whispered secrets, and the faces of those she loved and lost. The lines between the past and present blurred, leaving her lost in a haze of confusion and pain.

The most cruel kind of dreams made her toss and turn: her unconscious must have been aware of where she was and why, and so she saw him, even in her dreams. She re-lived their happiest moments in the sun, how he took her to distant lands, how she could laugh without restraint, and how he embraced her and spun her around. They kissed in the rain and in a hidden meadow blooming in spring. She saw her memories like they happened yesterday; she felt his hand caressing her and his lips on her skin as he promised his sweet lies, and yet she was still aware that it was all gone because of him. Her mind seemed to insist on reminding her of what she had lost, and she would have much preferred not remembering at all if it meant getting rid of this pain. 

When she finally woke from her fever-induced slumber, she softly groaned as she opened her eyes, only to find Vilgefortz sitting beside her. She blinked, trying to focus as her surroundings came into view. The room was dimly lit, and the faint glow of candlelight was casting shadows across the walls. He was asleep, and the light illuminated his face. She must have had a fever still, for in that moment her gaze lingered on his lips for a moment too long, and her heart began to ache. She hated herself for it and wished the scars on him would have turned his whole head deformed and hard to look at. Tissaia struggled to sit up, wincing as pain shot through her weakened body. 

Vilgefortz had grown accustomed to the rhythm of her breath, the subtle movements of her body as she struggled against the grip of fever, so when she began to move, his eyes opened as well. His expression was unreadable - a mask of concern and something else she couldn't quite place. He reached out to help her, his touch gentle yet hesitant. As she settled against the pillows, she couldn't help but feel a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through her veins. Anger, betrayal, longing - each vying for dominance within her fractured soul. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air between them. 

Blinking against the haze of her fever, Tissaia attempted to focus on his form. "Why are you here?" Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Vilgefortz shifted in his seat, his expression inscrutable. "You had a fever," he replied simply. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Tissaia's brows furrowed as she struggled to push through the fog in her mind. "And what do you care if I'm alright or not?"

A flicker of something unrecognizable crossed Vilgefortz's features before he masked it with his usual composure. "You may not believe it, but I do care about your well-being, Tissaia."

She scoffed, the sound tinged with bitterness. "Save your platitudes. We both know caring isn't exactly your strong suit." He didn't flinch at her words, his gaze steady as it met hers. 

"Perhaps not in the past, but things have changed."

Tissaia's gaze hardened, suspicion creeping into her voice. "Changed? How so?"

Vilgefortz hesitated for a moment before speaking, his tone measured. "I realized that no matter what happened between us, Tissaia, you mean more to me than you know."

She recoiled slightly at his words, her heart warring with her mind, and it clenched, a tumultuous chaos of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She wanted to believe him, to trust that his intentions were genuine, but doubts lingered like shadows in the corners of her mind. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him warily. "And yet," she countered, her voice trembling with uncertainty, "you've hurt me more than anyone ever has. Why should I believe a word you say?”

Vilgefortz shivered as if struck, his features contorted with pain. "I know," he whispered, his voice heavy with remorse. "I won't deny my past mistakes, but I'm offering you a chance to move forward, to forge a new path together."

Tissaia scoffed incredulously. "And what path would that be? Your path of manipulation and deception?"

Vilgefortz's jaw tightened, but he remained composed. "No, Tissaia. A path where we work together to achieve our goals, where we shape the future of the Continent."

She shook her head, her voice laced with disdain. "I've seen the lengths you're willing to go to achieve your goals. I refuse to be a part of your twisted vision."

He met her gaze, his expression impassive. "Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. You of all people should understand that, Tissaia."

She shook her head, frustration evident in her voice. "There's nothing noble about your actions, Vilgefortz. You're just a selfish man who will stop at nothing to fulfill his ambitions."

"And what would you have me do?" he retorted, his words dripping with disdain. "Sit back and watch as the world burns around us? We have the power to shape the future. We have the power to make a difference."

"But at what cost?" she shot back, her eyes blazing with righteous anger.

Vilgefortz bristled, his jaw clenched with barely contained frustration. "You don't understand, do you? You never have."

"Maybe not," she conceded, her voice softening with resignation. "But I know one thing for certain: there has to be a line, a line we cannot cross. You seek power at any cost," she accused, her eyes blazing with indignation. "But power without compassion is meaningless."

"And what of you, Tissaia?" Vilgefortz countered, his tone was filled with bitterness. "You cling to your ideals, but at what price? How many lives have been lost in the name of your principles?"

“How dare you?!” Her head was spinning, and anger raged inside her. Tissaia's mind was clouded by fever; her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. She tried to make sense of the swirling emotions within her, grappling with the conflicting desires that pulled her in different directions. She got up from the bed and tried to get away from him, but her legs were shaky and her body was weak. He was surprised at her relatively sudden move but easily caught up to her. Just before he could reach her, she picked up the vase from the table and threw it at him. He dodged, and it shattered on the wall behind him. Before she could hurt herself, he grabbed her hands. She was still hot to the touch, and as he looked into her eyes, he saw that her fever had flared up again.

“Let me go!” She resisted his hold on her. How dare he? She was fighting him, trying to set her hands free, but it only made him tighten his grip. She cried out. Her wounds were still healing, and she could feel her flesh ripping open and the bandage getting wet with her blood. Thankfully, only her right hand got hurt, and she instinctively reached for it to soothe the pain.

“I’m sorry. Please calm down.” Vilgefortz was getting desperate. He deserved all of her fury, of course, but he didn’t want her to harm herself. And now he has harmed her.

“You’re sorry?!” Tissaia practically screamed. “You’re sorry?! How dare you?! Such a failure of judgment indeed.” She repeated those fateful words he had told her before he left her. It felt like a punch in his gut. “Poor Tissaia!” She mocked him or herself; he couldn’t tell. The tears escaped her eyes, and she struggled to breathe. 

“How could you?” She asked between sobs and tried to hit him again.

“Tissaia, please. You’re bleeding.” He didn’t try to get a hold of her hands again, fearing it might hurt her further. He was backing away from her, but she followed until he was between her and the cold wall. She hit his face, and the harsh sound echoed throughout the room.

“How could you?!” She asked again, and this time her pain was clear as day in her voice.

“Tissaia…” He pleaded, but she cut him off.

“Answer me! How could you?! How could you do this to me?!” Her legs gave out, and he reached for her, but as he grabbed her elbows, he could only slow her fall. She was sobbing on the floor, her beautiful white hair a mess, and her face wet with tears. He knelt down beside her, unsure of what he should do. The storm that broke free from within her raged on, and Tissaia couldn’t breathe anymore. Vilgefortz tried to shake her, tried to make her listen to his voice, but she was lost in the hurricane of her mind.

Her face turned red, and just when he thought she would faint from the lack of oxygen, a heartbreaking sob emerged from deep within. She leaned down and forward, grabbed her hair while screaming. 

“I loved you,” she managed to say between her cries. “I loved you.” She repeated, and she kept on repeating, between fits of sobs and screams, until her voice became rough and she couldn’t speak anymore. 

The blood from her wrist poured down to her nightgown, and her hair was painted with it in some places. Vilgefortz reached for her and picked her up, even if she’d resist, but she was too tired now. Tired of fighting, tired of living with this pain, tired of living. She let him carry her back to the bed, and by the time he started working on her bleeding hand, she was asleep, drifting in blissful oblivion.

"I've made mistakes. Terrible mistakes. But I swear to you, Tissaia, I'll do whatever it takes to make things right." He knew she couldn’t hear him, but he made his promise to the darkness, the stars, the moon, and to any God who was willing to listen.

-

As the days passed in a blur, Tissaia's recovery proved to be a slow and arduous process. Each day seemed to melt into the next, marked only by the faint shift of sunlight filtering through the curtains and the steady rhythm of Vilgefortz's footsteps as he moved about the room, tending to her needs with a quiet diligence that belied the storm of emotions raging within him. 

The fever had finally broken, but its lingering effects left her weakened and vulnerable. She spent most of her days confined to her bed, her body aching with the aftermath of illness,and  her mind plagued by thoughts of what could have been. She was battered by the relentless onslaught of fever; her body rebelled against her with each labored breath, each tentative movement a reminder of the frailty of her mortality. Yet, despite the physical agony that wracked her, it was the scars of her shattered trust that cut deepest, leaving her heart raw and bleeding in the wake of his betrayal. She longed to distance herself from him, to break free from the chains that bound her to him, but deep down, she knew that their fates were irrevocably intertwined. 

Vilgefortz remained a constant presence by her side, his vigil unyielding even in the face of her silent reproach. He had not left her since the night she had fallen unconscious, his guilt and remorse keeping him tethered to her bedside like a penitent seeking absolution. He had thought that by saving her life, he could somehow atone for his sins, could somehow make amends for the pain he had inflicted upon her. But now, as he looked upon her frail form, he realized that forgiveness was a distant dream—one that may never come to fruition. Tissaia could feel the weight of his gaze upon her, a wordless plea for forgiveness that echoed in the depths of her soul, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes, and couldn't bear to confront the tangled mess of emotions that churned within her heart.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, Vilgefortz approached her with a sense of urgency in his eyes. "Please, Tissaia, talk to me," he pleaded, his voice a mere whisper in the stillness of the room. "What do I need to do for you to talk to me?"

She regarded him with a mixture of resignation and bitterness, her gaze unwavering as she struggled to find the words to convey the depths of her anguish. "There's nothing you can say, Vilgefortz," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. "You've already said and done enough to last a lifetime." 

Vilgefortz's expression softened, his features wrought with remorse. "I would do anything for you," he continued, his voice trembling with desperation. "I would burn the world down for you if you asked, no matter the cost, no matter the consequences."

Tissaia's breath caught in her throat at his words, the weight of his declaration hanging heavy in the air between them. She wanted to believe him, to trust that his intentions were pure, but doubt gnawed at the edges of her resolve, whispering tales of betrayal and deceit.

"That's the problem," she finally replied, her voice nothing more than a whisper, and yet it felt like shouting in the quiet of the night. "You still don't understand. You still don't care about anything or anyone else, only you. You just want everything your way."

Vilgefortz's expression darkened at her words, his expression a mask of wounded pride. "That's not true," he protested without hesitation, his expression tinged with desperation. "Not anymore. I just want you."

She raised an eyebrow, disbelief etched into every line of her face. It was funny in a way. If she manages to pull herself together, she might be able to use it to her advantage. "Tell me what you need of me?" he continued, his voice growing more insistent. "I will give you the world. We could rule the North; I could even kill Emhyr for you. We could rule the whole continent together, make things the way we want them to be."

As the silence stretched between them, Vilgefortz's resolve seemed to falter, his gaze dropping to the floor in defeat. But then, as if a spark had ignited within him, he straightened his shoulders, his eyes blazing with newfound determination.

"We could be the most powerful mages in history," he declared, his voice resolute. "We already are. We just have to take one final step to achieve greatness beyond measure. Together, you and I could reign over everything."

Tissaia's breath caught in her throat, shock and disbelief coursing through her veins. She had never heard him speak with such fervor, such conviction. And yet, even as his words echoed in the darkness of the room, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gripped her heart.

"We could rule the Empire, the whole continent," Vilgefortz continued, his voice growing more impassioned with each passing moment. "We could reshape the world in our image; there would be no one who could stop us."

But Tissaia remained silent, her mind heavy with conflicting emotions. She couldn't trust him, not after everything he had done, not after the pain he had inflicted upon her. And yet, a part of her couldn't help but wonder if there was still a chance for redemption, a chance to forge a new path together. Her heart was heavy with the weight of her own uncertainty; she was lost in a sea of conflicting emotions that threatened to engulf her in its turbulent waves. She couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that lingered like a ghost, haunting her every waking moment with its relentless presence. Vilgefortz's words echoed in her mind, a constant reminder of the fractured state of their relationship, of the chasm that lay between them like an irreconcilable divide.

She longed for clarity, and for a sense of purpose amidst the chaos that surrounded her, but the path forward remained shrouded in darkness, obscured by the fog of doubt and mistrust that clouded her vision. She didn't know if there was still hope for them, and she didn't know if they could ever find their way back to each other amidst the wreckage of their lives.

And yet, despite the uncertainty that plagued her, there was a glimmer of something within her heart, a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished. She couldn't deny the pull that drew her to Vilgefortz, the magnetic force that bound them together in spite of everything that had transpired between them.

She knew that forgiveness wouldn't come easily, and that healing would take time. She needed space to sort through the mess of emotions that churned within her, to find her footing amidst the ruins of her fractured existence. And until then, she would remain silent, a testament to the pain that still lingered within her wounded heart, a heart that longed for solace amidst the storm of her soul’s turmoil. She didn't know what the future held, didn't know if there was still hope for them amidst the wreckage of their shattered relationship. All she knew was that she needed time, time to heal, time to find herself again. So until then, she wouldn’t and she could’t say a word, an evidence to the heartbreak that still consumed her in every moment of the day.

And so they remained locked in a quiet battle of wills, two souls adrift in a sea of uncertainty, each longing for the solace of redemption, each yearning for the chance to find peace amidst the chaos of their tumultuous love. 

[ao3yennaia]

Child Of The Elder Flame

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/XV48nAR by WriterinMe Re writing and re working my story Child of the Elder Flame. The Battle of Sodden took it's toll and there is more than one way to be lost. When Yennefer unleashed her flames at Sodden, she awoke in herself elder blood of a different kind- a fiery kind. She awakens post battle a full elf with a mastery over flames which tempt her and no knowledge of who she is only vague memories that call to her of a woman that causes such yearning within her and such sorrow. She unknowingly makes her way back to Aretuza and a new destiny awaits Words: 651, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: The Witcher (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/F Characters: Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Tissaia de Vries Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Tissaia de Vries & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Additional Tags: Yennefer has amnesia, Post-Battle of Sodden Hill (The Witcher), Dobby is a Free Elf (Harry Potter), Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg is a Mess, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Protective Tissaia de Vries, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Yennefer may not know who she is but is still chaos, Fire Magic, tissaia needs a hug, Tissaia gets a hug read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/XV48nAR

[rectoress]

“That is a very serious accusation. Which means the proof will also have to be as weighty. But before you throw your proof onto she scale, Philippa Eilhart, be aware of my stance. Proof may be fabricated. Actions and their motives may be misinterpreted. But nothing can change existing facts. You have broken the unity and solidarity of the Brotherhood, Philippa Eilhart. You have handcuffed members of the Chapter like criminals. So do not dare to offer me a position in the new Chapter which your gang of traitors - who have sold out to the kings, rather than to Nilfgaard - intend to create. We are separated by death and blood. The death of Hen Gedymdeith. And the blood of Lydia van Bredevoort. You spilled that blood with contempt. You were my best pupil, Philippa Eilhart. I was always proud of you. But now I have nothing but contempt for you.”

time of contempt, andrzej sapkowski

[witcherscreenshotsdump]

mod project progress! ✔️-> finished ⭐-> progress has been made ⭕ -> on hold

@ningnomaningnong oh a list ! yeah that could be a good idea to list out all my projects,( for me too, so i don’t get lost in the mountain of projects i have :’D )

the one i’m working on right now is the alternate outfit for Syanna inspired by Anna Valerious’ outfits ✔️

i’m also working on a new hairstyle for my Angoulême model, it’s well on it’s way but i’m not satisfied with the headband  ✔️

hairstyles for Ciri:

short cropped ‘mistle’ styled

ashen messy hair

the long ‘ alypre’ hair model ✔️

the ‘jinx’ hairstyle

the braided ponytail

the child ciri ‘actually look like herself ‘ face model ⭐

the witcher 2 faces for both Ves and Triss

 the poet shirt for Jaskier

the Eva green face model for Yen

the rework of the lore friendly Blue dress for Triss

the long hairstyle for Eskel (  i have another version ready for game import but i have to actually do it ) ⭐

the Regis dressed down mod ⭐, i also want to make him alternate outfits, something closer to the books ( love the idea of him with an apron ) but maybe something very fancy too idk yet, maybe i’ll do both 

then i have the Yennefer lore friendly wardrobe ones :

Maribor torso ( started, currently in WIP folder )

Wyzima torso   ✔️

some witcher armors for Ciri :

Cat ( started, currently in WIP folder )

Manticore ✔️

Viper ⭐( started, currently in WIP folder )

Griffin ⭐( started, currently in WIP folder )

i’m thinking about doing a Skellige style mod for both Yennefer and Triss too, but it’s not started yet ( beside the early draft of an hairstyle for yen )

i may do a Nilfgaard style too for Ciri and triss, Yen not sure yet

i would LOVE to do the ‘hexer’ actors like I did the netflix ones :

Michał Żebrowski’s Geralt face is started and it looks cool in blender but i’m dreading the game import :’)

Grażyna Wolszczak’s  Yennefer is also started but i’m going to redo it all over because she looked AWFUL in game, that poor woman

Zbigniew Zamachowski’s  Jaskier isn’t started yet but i’m looking forward to it

⭕ for the netflix crowd i still have the netflix triss mod to update with the new dress and hair option, also would like to redclothify the blue dressthen the other characters models i had planned but never had the strenght to start lmao: netflix dijkstra, philippa  maybe ciri and jaskier complete with outfits and hair ( maybe an outfit and hairstyle for the yennfer mod too idk ) not gonna lie it’s not a priority for me ⭕

the Dicks out for temeria mod check this ask for the list ( minus Avallach who is already out ) ( Eredin’s model is started but i’ll need SBUI for further testing ) ⭐

an alternate outfit for Evelyn Gallo based on Evangeline season 2 outfit from wakfu ⭐ ( near finished )

lady echo model from wakfu season 4 ⭐ ( started )

the romance swaps like i did with Ves, Tomira is next and i’ve finished all the new assets ( fancy bun for parties, custom hood,naked body, party outfit ) all that is left to do is making the swaps ✔️

the Play As Iorveth mod that i desesperatly want but i have to actually work on it to have it :’) ( the mod is fuctional but needs a lot of polishing! V.0.2 is now in WIP folder ) ⭐

then the source mods, omg the source mods i want to make so many of them D’:

Cahir ⭐ ( re-re-re-re started from scratch AGAIN )

but there’s all the others:

Essi daven ⭐ ( not started, STARTED  looking forward to do it because i never see her depicted like i imagined her so either i read the book wrong/have bad memory, or it is another ‘rhino’ experience or maybe i just imagined her slightly differently either way it could be fun  )

Eithné ( started )

Lara dorren ⭐ ( near finished )

Cregennan of Lod

Neneke

Jarre ( started kinda, i have a face/hair initially for Cahir that would be better on him

Borch three jackdaw/téa/véa ( started, well i have a start of a tea or vea Hairstyle, that’s it lmao )

Vilgefortz

Tissaia de Vries

Mève of lyria ( based on thronebreaker ) ✔️

Gascon Brossard ⭐ issues with exporting a needed model ⭕

Reynard Odo ⭐

The rats and Ciri as Falka ( started, only mistle hair for now, also have an old falka hairstyle for ciri but it’s wonky )

some female dwarves ( started)

iorveth ( started )

✔️ also started making child Syanna and Annarietta models, maybe i will make more child characters it’s useless but fun ( started but can’t continue due to mesh exporting problems ) ✔️

i probably forgot some and it doesn’t count the new ideas i consistantly get   😂

[orsuliya]

The bad thing about Netflix' Witcher season 2 is that it is an unholy mess reeking of games. Am I being bitter? Yes. I grew up reading the books, I've got the right to be exactly as bitter as I want to.

The good thing about Netflix' Witcher season 2 is that it is so utterly forgettable that two hours later I can scarcely remember a quarter of it and I can quote the books verbatim and recap every episode of Wiedźmin starring Żebrowski, just try me.

What I do remember is this (spoilers ahead):

Jaskier doing break-up songs? Yes, please! Also, more Jaskier in general would do this thing good - unlike most of the other characters, he's at least entertaining.

Did Nivellen really need to be there in the present timeline? Nope. Do I mind terribly? Also nope. There's something to be said for good old Last Wish-y feel.

The Codringher&Fenn&Cat bit is absolutely amazing... and notice that I don't even mind Istredd being there or the fact that apparently Hen Gedymdeith's legacy is all but lost. (Book!Hen Gedymdeith would very much like to say something about that!) See? They can do it when they want to!

Philippa is the most gorgeous of all the sorceresses, in both human and owl forms. Perving on Dijkstra? Proceed!

This whole plotline with Fringilla deciding the Empire's pro-elven policy is a hot, hot mess. First of all, good luck to any wizard trying to pull any of that grey eminence bullshit in Nilfgaard. Secondly, for some reason the very political, clear-cut and surprisingly honest off-screen deal with Enid an Gleanna re: Scoia'tael&Dol Blathanna becomes an emotion-fueled tangle of pure idiocy and some weirdly hazy political messages. Also, why did we need the baby again? Oh, to make Nilfs evil baby-killers, right, I forgot.

THE Tissaia de Vries having tears in her eyes every other scene I could deal with. Miraculously pregnant Francesca Findabair trying to manipulate Fringilla Vigo in the clumsiest, most blatant way possible? Stop the Earth, I want to get off. Philippa, all my hopes regarding Magnificent Witchy Bitches are on you now, don't you disappoint me in season 3!

The final bit with the Council of Kings was suprisingly good. Now, why would that be...? Oh, they were using book material, how shocking! At least it gives me hope for the future politicking bits, so there's that.

For some weird reason Melitele's temple is the cleanest and the best lit location there is. Meanwhile, the Northern kings (and queen) congregate among ruins. Why not.

Nice to see you, Yarre! Bye, Yarre!

I like my Emperors cute AND smart. This one is very, very cute, but smart he is definitely not. Unless all the Nilfgaardians in Cintra are afflicted with sudden deafness or... they're going for the Empress Ending route, to which I say: NOPE. Where's my False Ciri subplot, you bastards?

It's been 8 episodes and what have they achieved? There is no bond nor even the beginning of one between Yennefer and Ciri and no real hope for one forming naturally. At the same time, the timeline being all wonky doesn't give the relationship between Ciri and Geralt any time to deepen. But at least it exists, yay!

Politically they've spent all this time on the Dol Blathanna deal and still got absolutely nowhere other than making the elves look bad. Also, the pacing is really, really slow, thanks to all those invented bits; I had been fully convinced we were going to get to Thanned or nearly so by the end of season 2. Well, we didn't.

Other than that I have no bloody idea what happened.

...and don't you dare tell me! I really, really don't want to know.

[kayivy]

The Martian AU where the continent has a space program, but with magic. 

Years ago Geralt was part of a planetary exploration mission led by Vesemir that went terribly wrong. The other wolf school witchers, thinking Geralt dead and his body lost in a dust storm, returned to the continent alone. 

And that’s it, no communications are re-established and Geralt gets an empty grave in Kaer Morhen. 

Four years later, a new mission led by Tissaia de Vries lands near the site of the previous disaster. 

One of the first things Jaskier Pankratz, navigator of the crew, sets out to do is scout out the equipment left behind by the abandoned mission. He’s expecting scraps of metal buried in the dust, maybe some solar panels, but he finds something else entirely. 

Geralt, for his part, is mostly convinced he’s hallucinating. 

(you can blame @lexa-gui for this one!)

[rectoress]

yennefxr​:

tissaia : “there’s nothing like a higher purpose to permit men to do the unspeakable”

vilgefortz :

@aen-consilium​

[novak-fan]

Yennefer of Vengerberg and Tissaia de Vries icons (The Witcher S01)

12 icons

150 x 150px

please like and/or reblog if you take

do not repost or re-edit (if you want a different color just send me an ask)

*all icons under the cut

[writers-dilemma]

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#xena - 54 posts

#xena warrior princess - 45 posts

#xwp - 44 posts

#regina mills - 39 posts

#tissaia - 37 posts

#swan queen - 36 posts

Longest Tag: 116 characters

#sorry!!! but grades don’t reflect the person & they’re not worth causing anyone emotional or physical harm over lmao

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Tissaia: I don’t really have friends.

Triss: Bold words from someone in a hugging range.

Source

34 notes • Posted 2021-11-21 17:26:58 GMT

#4

I need a crossover where 7ft tall Avatar Kyoshi meets 9ft tall Lady Dimitrescu. Sparks would fucking. Fly.

36 notes • Posted 2021-02-23 15:39:26 GMT

#3

So...did the re 8 devs just forget that lesbians exist, and that half of their sapphic zeitgeist revolves around intimidatingly-gorgeous villain ladies with sensual voices or am I missing something?

48 notes • Posted 2021-02-12 14:06:23 GMT

#2

Yennefer: *kisses Tissaia*

Tissaia: *breaks the kiss* what was that?

Yennefer: Affection.

Tissaia: Disgusting.

Tissaia:

Tissaia: Do it again.

Source

70 notes • Posted 2021-09-25 12:06:44 GMT

#1

Tissaia: how petty can you get?

Yennefer: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Source

121 notes • Posted 2021-05-05 14:54:12 GMT

was tagged by @mya-devries

Rules: answer the questions and tag 9 people you want to know better/catch up with.

3 ships: Yennaia, SwanQueen, Xena/Gabrielle

Last song: Forever - Fletcher

Currently watching: kinda in flux right now, but will prob start yearly rewatch of Xena again

Last movie: Star Wars Episode I don’t judge

Currently craving: something very nsfw but if I had to be sfw….🤔 to finish up the next damn chapter of Four Marks

Tagging: @brazenedminstrel @greypaws6896 @princesscharming1983 @mindmypensieve @xemilylhx @gayllamafromspace @sentientpinkfrosting @epaniou @yanana94

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[likecastle]

re: Witcher femslash: would you consider some Tissaia/Yennefer? I am so into the difficult push and pull of their dynamic and always love to see more of it!

So approximately a hundred years ago I got this Tissaia/Yennefer femslash ask, and I finally got around to finishing the thing I started in response. I have a lot of feelings about Tissaia/Yennefer, because they have such incredible chemistry on the show, but I have a hard time reconciling it with their actual relationship in canon. I tried to get around it by situating this in Yennefer’s fantasy of what might have happened the day Tissaia shows up in Rinde, but it remains to be seen how successful that approach was.

Also, I would very much welcome more Witcher femslash requests, though I can’t promise they won’t take me several more months to fill.

As the light outside the windows wanes, Yennefer’s guests begin to arrive, but her mind wanders. She’s grown bored of these little gatherings, of using her considerable skills to help the landed gentry slake their secret lusts without shame. One can only orchestrate so many orgies before one tires of the spectacle, after all.

And so Yennefer’s thoughts drift to the touch of a gloved hand on her shoulders, and the smell of damp stone and ozone welling up behind her, a scent that is for her inexorably bound both to fierce longing and implacable misery. It’s anger, of course, that causes her to linger on the memory—irritation at Tissaia’s intrusion, fury at her self-serving condescension.

Around her, her guests begin to succumb to the aphrodisiac fog rolling through the room. How tedious their desires are, how small. Yennefer can’t understand how their petty little wants—to be fucked by two people at once, to be pushed down or punished or indulged—can fill them with such insurmountable shame that they must seek out magical assistance to lower their inhibitions. It’s inconceivable to her, because what she wants is so immense it’s a constant maelstrom inside her, and still she cannot bring herself to feel ashamed.

Damn Tissaia for trying to make her feel like a cowed schoolgirl again. How dare she turn up here after all these years and presume to understand what Yennefer wants or needs. How dare she offer Yennefer redemption. As if Yennefer is the one who’s failed. As if Yennefer has anything to atone for.

The same sensation she felt when Tissaia touched her wells up inside her now, a current of heat that sears her right down to her core. It makes her want to tear at her clothes, strike out, scream so loud Tissaia can hear her all the way back at Aretuza. But Yennefer stays still.

She has long experience schooling her emotions—Tissaia taught her that. And it’s Tissaia’s voice she hears whenever her anger flares up so fierce she wants to burn everything down, herself with it. You weren’t taking control, Tissaia said to her once, you were losing it. Yennefer would like to show her a thing or two about control.

While her host goes off in search of refreshments for her, Yennefer amuses herself by imagining what might have happened if her meeting with Tissaia had gone another way. If, instead of enduring Tissaia’s patronizing warnings, she had pushed her back onto the bed and put that prim mouth to a better use.

She can imagine Tissaia’s shock as Yennefer hiked up her skirts and climbed on top of her. Yennefer expects such wanton behavior would outrage Tissaia’s carefully constructed veneer of propriety and poise. But Yennefer can’t imagine she’d offer any real resistance. No, she can almost feel the way Tissaia’s breath would hitch, her sides heaving between Yennefer’s thighs, her lips parted to gasp for air.

It would be gratifying to watch her eyes widen as Yennefer inched up her body. She’d like to see that foxlike face disappear under the black pool of her skirts. How she would shiver at the first touch of Tissaia’s tongue. Yennefer clenches at the thought of the slick sounds Tissaia would make lapping at her, how her face would grow wet and slippery between Yennefer’s thighs. And Yennefer wouldn’t let up for a moment, so that Tissaia had no choice but to bury her face in Yennefer’s cunt.

In the midst of the great hall, Yennefer presses her thighs together, feeling her pulse hot between her legs. Yes, she would like to have the rectoress at her mercy. It would be infinitely more interesting than the tedious tableau playing out in front of her now. Just once, she wishes someone would come to her with a really unusual desire, a passion that might stand up to her own. She wonders if Tissaia could withstand her, or if she would disappoint her like all the others.

Somehow Yennefer doesn’t think the rectoress of Aretuza would be the type to beg. Much too proud for that, Tissaia de Vries. Nor would she let herself flag in her ministrations, even when the hot embrace of Yennefer’s thighs grew stifling and her head began to spin. By then, Yennefer would be close and she would rock her hips, fucking Tissaia’s face. And perhaps she would feel Tissaia writhing under her, desperate for her own pleasure but unrelenting, and that would be what set her thighs quaking—the knowledge that Tissaia was hers, that she would give her everything she had to give and Yennefer would take it all.

It is, Yennefer decides, an intriguing little daydream, certainly worth revisiting later in the privacy of her own room. Perhaps someday she’ll even test the theory. Before she can decide how the conditions for such an experiment might arise, there is the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and she looks up, expecting her refreshments.

[flowers-shouldnt-die]

If I can have you, no one else in this world can

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Vilgefortz of Roggeveen/Tissaia de Vries Characters: Tissaia de Vries, Vilgefortz of Roggeveen Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, i will not tag all the stuff that happenes, Jealousy, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, at this point i don't even care if it's ooc, it's just smut, ruined nightgown Series: Part 2 of This is happiness Summary:

As per @Lexi_lulu3383's request on tumblr: "what if Vilgefortz get a LIL bit Jealous bc of some king, right? And Tissaia's like "well- it doesn't matter bc I only want you" and Vilgefortz is all like- "well- your about to have me" and then it's like- smutty n stuff.

And that's it.

@mtg-is-life-frf girl, this is for you

Notes:

My usual relax smut after the pain of writing a chapter for Metamorphosis. Fair warning: no beta, barely re-read, done in a day or two. If it sucks ass, let me know and I'll upgrade it.

Tissaia had another meeting with the kings, which would have been fine, except this time more mages joined them, and that meant more wine was included. It was practically a small party - without the music, and again, this alone would not have bothered Vilgefortz. He might have headed the Council with her, but he had no problem with Tissaia dealing with the rulers of the Continent on her own. He worked better in the shadows anyway, and he had a dislike for those people in the first place. All that being said, he refused to admit to himself that he was seething, so close to seeing red and just ruining all the efforts they put into managing the Northern Kings.

If Demavend didn’t stop drinking and didn’t stop being overly friendly with Tissaia, his Tissaia - an angry voice whispered in Vilgefortz’s mind - he might do something she definitely wouldn’t like. That fat fuck even had the fucking nerve to ever so slightly touch her back - not too high, not too low - so no one could technically say anything about this friendly gesture. Vilgefortz closed his eyes and took a deep breath. At this moment, his beloved looked at him with concern in her eyes. She sensed his distress, and when their eyes met, she gently smiled at him. Her eyes, the soft curve of her lips, the little turn of her nose - it was enough to calm him. And then Demavend fucking stepped way too close and whispered something to her, and Vilgefortz had to step out of the meeting hall.

The breeze of the sea caressed his face as he stared into the darkness beyond the horizon. That fat motherfucker. He had a very good chance of dying before the night was over. It’s not like he was jealous. He didn’t really have the right to be; none of the guests knew about their relationship, and not even all the mages knew. He understood the King of Aedirn’s fascination. Tissaia was always breathtaking, especially now, with her new, more alluring hairstyle and ever so slightly different dress. It was all still very Tissaia, but there was something about her like this that made his heart beat a little faster, and he had a hard time looking at anything else but her. He trusted her completely; he knew she was playing her part to keep the kings in line, but damn. That asshole had a lot of nerve. Even if he was drunk, it was no excuse. Besides, Vilgefortz wasn’t jealous. He knew what was happening; she knew it too, and they both knew what they needed to do. And that didn’t include beating the shit out of Demavend.

He was so preoccupied with not being jealous that he didn’t notice her approach and he shuddered a little when her hand touched his shoulder. Tissaia stepped closer to him, and he hugged her, maybe a little too tight, and she buried her face in his chest. She was just the right height; the top of her head reached his chin, and he leaned into her hair.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice muffled by his embrace.

“Nothing,” he whispered after much consideration. She chuckled a little at his stubbornness.

“I could sense from across Aretuza that you are troubled.” His love looked up at him and put her hand on his cheek, caressing his handsome face. He smiled, took her hand, and kissed her palm. Her heart melted a little, and she pushed herself on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. He held her even closer, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss was sweet, and reassuring, and he loved how she tasted -  of wine and vanilla mixed with cinnamon. She had such a sweet tooth, and he found it adorable. The formidable Arch Mistress, who put the fear of any God into kings and commoners alike - and she moaned while eating chocolate-covered strawberries or lemon cake with caramel on top. 

When they parted, he shook his head. “Let’s go back, my love.” With one quick peck on her lips, he released his hold of her, and they made their way back to the meeting. 

And not even ten minutes later, he mumbled, “Fucking hell,” when he saw that piece of shit actually touch her back just a little bit too low. His movement was quick; she had no time to react when he stepped next to her, pushed Demavend’s hand away, pulled Tissaia close to him, and gave her a small kiss on the edge of her lips, perfectly on the place between her cheeks and her rosy, sweet, and soft lips. The king looked a bit sheepish; the rest of the people who saw what he did looked surprised; even Tissaia needed a moment to regain her composure. Good thing he wasn’t jealous, or else he might have caused a scene. 

The rest of the evening was relatively uneventful. After his demonstration, Tissaia kind of avoided him, fearing he might do something more. He understood, and actually made himself useful by talking with some of their colleagues. Vilgefortz didn’t have anything else to worry about anymore; Demavend thankfully got the message and backed off finally. The night concluded with yet another agreement about the threat of Nilfgaard and how they should all work together, and so on and so forth. He knew none of the kings and queens would keep their word, but they had peace, at least for a short while.

They didn’t speak that much after. They retreated to their bedroom, and she could feel the emotions flowing through him like lava, still burning hot, fooling those who didn’t know any better to come closer and touch. She saw it in the way he held his jaw tight and in how his face contorted when a particular thought crossed his mind. He silently made them a bath with way too much relaxing oils and candles. When they settled in the warm water, he possessively held her tight and only let her go when she insisted that they actually clean themselves. He agreed, and after they finished, he cursed himself. The opportunity was right there, but his mind was clouded by the fumes of not jealousy. He could have given her the bath of her lifetime. 

After putting on her nightgown, Tissaia looked at him. He was still standing by the window, his brows furled. She sighed, loud enough for him to hear, and he understood her wordless request. Vilgefortz stepped next to her, his blood feeling electric, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Would you tell me now, please, why are you so angry?” She asked as he pressed his forehead to hers. She knew, of course, that he was jealous, but she wanted him to voice his feelings and not just mope around the room. And yet he shook his head and kissed her, not willing to say a word. He bit her lower lip, and she moaned a little before pulling away, resting her hands on the sides of his face. “You do know that it doesn’t matter what happened at the meeting, don’t you?” she whispered. “I only want you.” Before she could kiss him, he pulled back a bit and smirked. It was a devious, filthy smirk, and her breath got caught in her throat.

“Well,” his face got closer to hers as he spoke, “you’re about to have me.” Tissaia had no time to react; he kissed her hard, his teeth grazing her soft lips and his tongue teasing hers. His hands slowly caressed her sides before venturing further down, and she sighed as he cupped her buttocks. Vilgefortz pulled her dress up, and he ran his palms against her thighs. She felt her arousal growing, took off his robe, and let her hands wander all around his muscular body. His lips found her neck and bit down on her tendons, sucking at her flesh, leaving a bitemark and a reddening spot. He was already in such a mood, so when the high collar of her gown stopped him from kissing the delicate curve where her neck meets her shoulders, the restrained volcano inside him erupted, and he reached up to the front of her dress and, with one swift and sudden move, tore the fabric apart. 

“Gods,” she cried out and pulled his head back by his hair, guiding him into a hungry kiss. He freed one of her arms from the restraints of what remained of her nightgown and moved his mouth to her shoulder, licking it, biting, and teasing all the way, and then back to her neck and lips. He picked her up, her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and she kissed him desperately as he walked them to the bed. With one hand, he reached down, pulled the covers aside, and then tossed her onto the bed. Tissaia laughed a little at his hurried attempts. She climbed back, positioning herself so that her head was resting against her pillows. He was following her every move above her, and when she finally settled, he parted her legs, pushing himself as close to her as he could. She whined when she felt his fully erect manhood pressing against her swollen core. 

Breaking their fervent kiss, he got rid of her dress, tearing the fabric completely. Her breathing was quick, but it was nothing compared to his erratic panting. His hands touched every inch of her exposed skin, grabbing her hips as he kissed his way lower on her. Vilgefortz took his time; his mouth found her breasts and bit down on one. She gasped, her head spinning, and her soft whimpers started to get louder as he sucked on her already hard nipple, licking it and torturing her with the touch of an expert while his hand twisted and pulled at her other one. He took one between his teeth and pulled at it, and she could do nothing but hiss and dig her nails deep into his shoulders. Her face was flushed, and her breathing mirrored his urgent rhythm.

He finally started kissing her lower, and he bit the delicate skin above her hip bone. His hands parted and teasingly went up and down her thighs. Kissing her abdomen, his hot breath tickled her, and her hand found its place in his hair. The smell of her arousal filled his nose, and he had such a satisfied smile that he could get her so shamelessly wet in such little time. Tissaia was quivering when his tongue delved into her folds, giving her a slow and thorough lick. He did it again, finding her center, and tasting her sweetness made him growl while she was panting and moaning. He finally settled a bit further up; the flat of his tongue was pressing against her swollen bud, before pulling away, only to soothe her need again. She tightened her grip on his hair, and sweat started to glisten on her body. She felt the pleasure building up, slowly but relentlessly, as he claimed her with his mouth over and over again. He teased her, circling her sensitive nub, sucking on it, and dragging his tongue across it until she was seeing stars. She was moaning louder and louder, and her legs were shaking, yet his sweet assault on her didn’t stop. She felt the pressure getting closer to an explosion, and when he took another long lick across her sensitive nerves, she cried out, her thighs closing around his head while she grabbed his hair with painful force.

Vilgefortz waited until her breathing evened a little and her legs weren’t holding him in a delicious prison. Positioning himself lower on the bed, he kissed her core again before parting her folds with his fingers and pushing two inside her. Her hips buckled, her breath hitched, and he curved his fingers just right to touch the sweetest spot inside her. She felt her wetness dripping out, even with him moving inside her. He sped up his pace; the sound of him pleasuring her was only muffled a little when he pressed his mouth against her bud again. Tissaia was overthrown by sensations, the increasing speed of his fingers and the relentless teasing of his tongue made her moan without restraints. The sheets crumpled as she gripped them. She felt her release nearing her again, and her back arched as she kept getting closer and closer. He continued his ministrations and never slowed his hands. Her hips started to move with him, and her toes curled as she was about to tip over.

“Like this, Kitten?” he murmured against her slick folds before he did her favorite thing with his mouth, and she cried out as she came. Her walls clenched his fingers, his hand got soaking wet, and her body moved in intoxicating waves. 

She didn’t have time to calm down this time. His free hand pressed down on her lower abdomen, just above where he still tortured her with his mouth. He moved the fingers inside her as quickly as he could, and she was screaming. The world stopped existing, only the continuous flow of pleasure registered in her mind. She heard the increasingly wet sounds he had drawn from her body. The pressure she felt before came back with vengeance, and she tightened around his fingers once again. She felt herself wetting the bed, but his hands never stopped. Just when her noises turned into desperate whimpers, he drank up all her juices from her sensitive core and she felt like crying. Her body couldn’t take it anymore; she was shaking, dragging her nails across his scalp, and pulling his hair hard. 

She kept repeating, “Please, please, please,” but neither of them knew what she begged for. Each word sounded like a confession of her sins to him, and he breathed through his nose and had to close his eyes. He finally pulled back from her, releasing her from her torment. His hands were soaked, but so were her lower body and the bed under them. Vilgefortz decided to give her some time, so he only peppered her face with gentle kisses and waited for her breathing to even out.

“You are my favorite delicacy, Kitten, you know that?” She chuckled between deep breaths and caressed his neck.

“What was this all about?” Talking was still a challenge, but she managed while grinning.

“What do you mean, love? I always take good care of you,” he teased and kissed her. She moved her hands to his pants that he still had on, and with a quick use of magic, he got them off him with ease.

“Don’t you teach the novices not to use chaos without purpose?” He whispered against her lips.

She smirked, “But it did serve a purpose,” and she bit his lips and opened her legs for him. He groaned at the sharp pain and felt blood in his mouth. She licked the fresh wound on his lip, and he wasn’t able to hold back anymore. His penis easily slid inside her warm and tight cunt. He didn’t waste time, and he hurriedly moved his hips. 

“Oh, Gods,” she cried into the crook of his neck. Vilgefortz took her hands from his neck and pinned them above her head, intertwining their fingers as he continued to thrust into her with rapid force. The bed began to hit the wall, and her cries grew more desperate. Tissaia’s body started to move with his, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. The ache in her stomach found her rather quickly; she was still so sensitive. 

One of the most erotic thing a mage could do was an open channel during intimacy. Not only between their minds but their sensations as well. Their chaos melting together for their pleasure, not knowing where one’s ends and the other’s begins. This has become a habit for them at this point in their relationship, and so when Tissaia felt his magic reach for her and become one with her own, she felt like a bolt of lightning had struck her. She moaned at the same time as his thrust. The hairs on his chest rubbed against her nipples, and she could barely breathe.

“Keep your eyes open. Look at me, love.” She really did try, but as a breathy cry left her swollen lips, she couldn’t anymore. One of his hands went around her throat, just holding it without pressure. “Don’t close your eyes, Kitten. I want you to look at me when I make you come again.” Tissaia desperately tried to do what she was told, and until the last moment, she managed it, forcing herself to focus on him throughout the fog of pleasure. And then she forgot how to breathe; her back arched and her legs pulled him even closer as her walls pulsated around him.

He was panting; sweat covered his body as he watched her ride out the waves of her climax. She looked so deliciously sweet. Vilgefortz grabbed a hold of her hips, and with a swift move, he lay down on the bed. He sat up and kissed her, pulling her head back by her hair before biting down on her throat, and she made the most intoxicating sound. He shifted a little; his back was against the pillows and the wall. 

“Turn around, love,” he whispered against her mouth. She gasped, and with shaky legs, she slowly lifted herself and did what he told her. She positioned his manhood against her oversensitive core but waited for him to push inside. He thrust into her again, hard and fast. Her whole body was on fire; she was sweating; her hair was damp; and her face was red. She reached back with one hand, gripping his hair again. A deep moan that resonated with her soul left him, and she leaned herself back onto his chest. His hands found their purpose as well; he rubbed his thumb against her swollen nipple and then twisted and teased it before settling his grip on her throat, just with enough pressure to make her head spin a little bit more. His other hand went between her legs, rubbing her bud, and he smiled when he felt her hips move against him.

“Oh, fuck!” She had tears in her eyes, and she held onto his hands like a lifeline. He knew he had pushed her over the edge in every way possible now; she rarely ever swore, not even during their lovemaking. Getting her to say it meant he did his job very well. “Faster - ah, fuck. Vil! Vil, Vil, harder! Fuck me, yes, Gods, harder!” She screamed on top of him, and he dutifully complied, thrusting into her with as much force as he could. Their bodies slapped into each other, and the sound of it combined with her melodies filled the room. Every move was an attack against her defenses; she cried and moaned, and whimpered as the sensations grew. Her bud was almost hurting at this point, but his fingers still circled around it, teasing and torturing her at the same time. 

The grip of his hands on her throat tightened, and she struggled to breathe. The ache in her stomach started to burn, but she needed something more - a final push to reach infinity. 

“Come on, love. Fuck, you feel so good. Come for me again. I want to feel your cunt squeezing me,” he whispered next to her ear and then groaned a little when she started to move her hips faster, almost at an urgent pace. “Fuck, yes, Kitten, I love when you come around my cock. Keep moving, let me feel you, love. Show me how much you love when I fuck you.” The end was barely audible between his panting and her moans. White little dots started to cloud her vision, and her body burned, but the fire still couldn't burst from her center. That was until he slapped her bud and pinched it, and she screamed as her body shook above him and the fire finally spread through her entire being. 

Vilgefortz let go of her throat and closed his eyes while she was lost in the primal bliss he inflicted on her. Her breathing was erratic, and she struggled to form coherent thoughts. He gently lifted her and put her down on the bed, next to him. He swiped away the sweat from her forehead. A strain of hair was stuck to her face, and he tucked it behind her ear.

“You look so beautiful, flushed like this, my love.” She couldn’t answer; she just chuckled, touched his face, and kissed him softly. Tissaia moved into his arms and lay in his embrace while her body slowly calmed. When she managed to regulate her breathing, she looked up at him, an eyebrow raised.

“What?” was all he could say before grinning at her.

“I could ask the same. What has gotten into you?”

“Are you saying I’m usually not this satisfying?” He pretended to be offended and leaned back away from her. Oh, how much she loved her crazy, unbelievable man.

“Satisfying, yes.” Tissaia still had a bit of trouble speaking. “You know what I mean.”

“I most certainly do not.” He mocked her again, and she just shook her head. She tried to reach down to please him with her hands and maybe her mouth as well. It was only fair - she thought. But he held her hands in his before she could touch him, and he pressed her flat down on the bed again. “Maybe tomorrow, hm?” He kissed her lips and sighed with pleasure. He found her hips; oh, how he loved the delicate curve of her body. Caressing her sides, his head pressed against hers, he whispered, “Get on your knees for me, Kitten.”

Tissaia shuddered a little and turned around, positioning herself on her knees and elbows. He moved behind her, dragging his fingertips along her spine. Grabbing her ass, he massaged her a little before his palm came down hard on her backside, the sound echoing in the room with her sharp cry. Vilgefortz pushed at her opening, teasing her and sliding the head of his cock against her slick folds. She made an impatient little noise, and he smiled. 

With a sudden, long thrust, he was inside her again, as deep as he could be, making her scream again, just like he had done many times during the night. He was going slower than before, he figured she needed something more gentle now. Just before he completely pulled out, he pushed back into her again, and her deep moans were his reward. Tissaia reached forward, her hands grabbing the pillows and her hips moving against him.

“Yes, love, arch your back for me.” He panted while gripping her hips. Continuing to take her hard, he finally let the thoughts that bothered him so much burst from his lips. “Mine,” he said between deep breaths. Her hips jerked a little, and she got louder as the sweet ache started to build in her. “Mine,” he repeated. 

He reached down and grabbed a hold of her hair as he pulled her up to his chest. One hand still held her waist, the other her neck, and he bit down on her shoulder. She made a sharp cry and moved her fingers between her legs.

“Say it, love. You’re mine.” Vilgefortz whispered against her ear. Moaning louder as her pleasure grew, he tightened his hold on her neck, and she gasped. “Say it.”

“I’m yours.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Her fingers moved faster, and she felt him tensing a little. Before he could choke her, he let go of her neck and pushed her back down. Holding her hips with both hands again, he was waiting for her to finish before he followed her. 

“Say it again,” he had a hard time forming words now; his breathing was labored and his movements more sharp.

“Gods,” she breathed into the pillows, “I’m yours.” He picked up the pace and felt her legs shake. “Faster, oh Gods, Vil, I’m yours, ” she still teased herself with her fingers, and he obliged, thrusting into her with quicker moves. Tissaia’s body tensed a moment before the built-up tension from her belly engulfed her. She cried into the pillows as her walls clenched around his cock, squeezing him so tight that he couldn’t hold back anymore. His movements became a bit spasmodic, and before long, he groaned as he poured his seed deep inside her. He made a few more thrusts, emptying himself completely. 

He pulled out and watched as the white liquid dripped from her opening, and in that animalistic, primal moment, he felt like he had made his claim. Not that he hadn’t done it many times before, but right then, it felt so right. He claimed her, just as she claimed him.

Tissaia turned around and he lay down next to her. She rested her head against him. Their bodies were heated, and they were covered in sweat. Vilgefortz kissed the top of her head and quietly said, “You are mine, and I am yours.”

“You are mine, and I am yours,” she repeated, looking into his eyes. She leaned in to kiss him - his lips, his face, his jawline - anywhere she could. She loved the feeling of his beard against her lips. She chuckled and looked up at him with a teasing smile. It was his time to raise his eyebrows. “Maybe you should get jealous more often.” She smirked and kissed him - a long and lingering, sweet kiss.

“I wasn’t jealous.” Vilgefortz protested, but she laughed once more. “I mean it,” he insisted, but even his voice betrayed him.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered against his soft lips as he embraced her. “I don’t mind that you get jealous from time to time.”

[marvellouslymadmim]

I hope you get better. You are a true queen. So, the thing that left me ecstatic on the show, was that Eist and Calanthe didn't even have to touch each other for the chemistry to explode on them. All I wanted was a prequel to them. I would love to see more of your fanfics about them. Do you have any in mind? Can you tell us the storylines?

First, thank you for the kind words 💖

Second, YES that chemistry 🔥🔥🔥. I would give up my good tit for a prequel (ok maybe not really, but I would send Tasteful Nudes™ to anyone who could make a prequel series happen).

Third, HOOOOOOOO BOY DO I HAVE SOME FICS IN MIND FOR THESE TWO.

I actually have 13 projects planned, mostly AUs. I’m gonna give the briefest description of the ones that are the most developed, and anyone interested in learning more can message/ask me for more. I keep them numbered in my notes for clarity, btw.

#1: Soccer player!Cal//Physical therapist!Eist. Cal, center forward for the Cintra Lions, gets injured during a game. She’s such a raging brat that her first few PT’s quit. But her newest therapist seems completely undaunted by her attitude, and chooses to stay. And eventually, Cal realizes she doesn’t want him to leave, anyway. Featuring: all the Aretuza girls as footballers, with Tissaia as the coach.

#2: The Former Lovers Modern AU. (working title: Two Nights at The Sea Hound). Eist owns a bar, The Sea Hound, which has a reputation for bringing in solid music acts. After nearly fifteen years of retirement, Cal and her band return to play. Past and present collide and two idiots who fucked up get a second chance.

#3: Assassins. (title: These Savage Delights). Same canon-verse, about 200yrs past the events of the books. Eist attends a world summit, pretending to be the ambassador from Skellige--his true assignment is to assassinate the ambassador from Cintra. It doesn’t take him long to realize the Cintran ambassador is also an assassin--and he’s her target.

#4: Mercenary!Cal//Archaeologist!Eist (aka I watched Atlantis A LOT as a kid). Arcaheologist Tissaia de Vries invites her old friend, museum curator Eist Tuirseach, to join her in an excavating an old temple in the Desert of Korath. Eist immediately clashes with the group of mercenaries hired by Lord Stregobor (the expedition’s financier) to protect the dig (and his own personal interests)--but none more so than the groups brash and brusque commander, Calanthe Riannon.

#5: CEO!Cal//Escort!Eist. Cal, a busy CEO with no time for romance, meets Eist at a bar and has a fun one-night stand. A few nights later, she meets the man again--as someone else’s date at a corportate event. She quickly learns he’s actually an escort...and realizes that she has an opportunity to keep this man on-call. 

#6: Orpheus/Eurydice re-imagined. Same canonverse/slightly alt ending. After the sacking of Cintra, Tissaia de Vries brings Queen Calanthe back from the dead--she sees it as a way to defeat Nilfgaard, whom she wants to overthrow at all costs. Calanthe is more than willing to raze her enemies to ash (especially as some kind of mythic zombie which instills more fear in others)--but she has a condition: she ain’t doing jack shit without her 6′2″ marshmallow by her side. But when Eist’s spirit doesn’t willingly return to his body, Calanthe has to walk into the underworld herself and bring him back.

#7: Modern Vineyard AU. Cal runs her family’s vineyard, but it’s suffering financially as the times change. Finally, she agrees to Tissaia’s suggestion to bring in a brand manager/PR specialist, Eist Tuirseach. His “trendy” ideas and suggestions go against everything Cal prefers, and personalities clash. 

#8: Cooking Classes AU. Eist enrolls in amateur cooking classes at a five-star restaurant, run by the famous (or perhaps infamous) chef, Cal Riannon. His class is taught by another chef at the restaurant, but when Eist wins a chance to have private lessons with Chef Calanthe herself, sparks begin to fly.

PS: I swear, I half answered this on my phone, realized I didn’t have time to finish, and saved it as a draft...for FOREVER and just found this again in my drafts. If my life depended on answering asks in a timely manner, I would be long dead. :/

[rectoress]

[fairymadnessyeah]

A Bard in Kaer Morhen

Chapter 1: All Party Members are Here!

Find it in AO3!

Summary: After the battle of Soddon Hill and finding his surprise child, Geralt goes to Kaer Morhen to spend the winter and protect his company. What a surprise is he going to get when he finds he is not the only witcher who picked up strays and brought them to safety from the on-going war. Or that said person is so being so praised and spoilt by his brothers. He does care. He is happy for him. He is. ... ... Hm.

Notes: Hey! This is my first Witcher fic, so please be nice! I never had enough money to buy the games (I still don't) but I really got into the fandom when I watched the series! I re-visited it a few days ago and I couldn't get this idea out of my head! I doubt I will write another fic, not until I get enough to buy the book or the game, (probably the book, tho) or until the next season comes out. Sorry if this is too OCC, I tried to do my best!

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The scenery had turned into an icy and snowy deadland in what seemed like a blink of an eye. The travellers, a man with hair as white as the snow surrounding them, a girl who had been through hell and was still standing and two mages, one hurt and the other healing them. They had all come from a worse place though.

Sodden Hill had become a graveyard after the battle between Nilfgard and the mages. The reinforcements of king Foltest were keeping the attacking kingdom at bay, but it wouldn't last for long. People would say it was destiny that Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, was near to help the last surviving mages of the battle, but he only called it luck. Whether it was good or bad was yet to be decided. He had only been travelling with his Surprise child for less than 48hs when he came across a middle-aged woman and the mage from Temeria carrying an unconscious Yennifer.

Triss was wounded too, but it wasn't fatal, and while the two looked as if they were seconds from dropping to the ground, they were still holding on. The middle-aged woman, Tissaia de Vries, explained everything that was going on once they were on safer grounds.

She told him about the war and the decision The Chapter had come upon, along with their little resistance and then asked for him to take the two younger mages with him. She had clearly noticed the girl with him was Princess Cirila, the lioness cub of Cintra, and that he was protecting her. He accepted, but only because he didn't have a choice. Even if Yennifer had left him, the two were still bonded thanks to the Djinn and Triss had saved his life back on Temeria. He owned them both.

The rectress didn't join them. (Not that he would let her). She said something about drawing the attention away from her pupils. Since they were more powerful and younger than her, and therefore played a more important role in the war than her, she would sacrifice being followed and found (and whatever came after that) to give them more time to escape the war. Geralt suspected there was more to it than that, but it didn't seem to be his place to say that.

After farewells' were said between Triss and the rectress (and the unconscious Yennifer), the four made their way towards Kaer Morhen. Yennifer rode on top of Roach, Ciri and Tress by her side and him at the front, leading and protecting at the same time. Yennifer didn't wake up until a week after they set off and it took them another two weeks to arrive at witcher school.

When she woke up, both Tris and him had to physically stop her from going back to Tissaia's side. They were setting camp in the woods when she sat up from the floor with a start. Ciri, who was closest to her, got quite a fright and a scratch, when she tried to calm the sorceress. They somehow got her soothed enough to listen to them and explain the plan for the time being. The kingdoms of the country that weren't below in Nilfgards' reign were holding their attack back, so until she and Triss were ready to join the battlefield once more, they were to stay with the witcher. He would take them to Kaer Morhen, a place filled with witcher during the winter, a place which Nilfgard would have to be crazy to attack. Once the two mages were fine, they were free to leave. Cirila would stay with him up in the north until there wasn't a bounty on her head anymore or she could protect herself, whichever happened first.

They continued their journey the next day, although the air around them a little tense. The first-week Ciri and Triss had talked lightly about trivial things, but with Yen now awake things had turned awkward. It surprised Geralt that the purple-eyed woman was not angry at him, or at least not showing it. After the disastrous Dragon hunt, he imagined the next time they saw each other, she would try to slit his throat. But, alas, she still hadn't tried. Maybe she was too drained to be bothered by it.

He was too in some way. Finding the little princess had drained in ways he never experienced before, and the silence of the journey was weighing on him, strangely. It had never bothered him before, the quiet. But even when the tension between the three women dissipated and the three chattered normally, the feeling was still there. As if something was missing. He didn't understand it. When Jaskier talked and composed whenever they had travelled, he never felt this way.

As they made their way towards his home, the three females got better acquainted. They would trade who would ride on Roach, though Ciri spent more time there. She was still gaining her strength back and this way, they moved quickly. The two mages didn't seem to mind, as they told her stories and fables of magic and spells, the girl opened up to them, even confessing that she believes to have magic of her own. Geralt already suspected it and was planning to bring it up with her once they were in Kaer Morhen, but Yen and Triss beat him to it. They taught her how to hide it and control it so that it didn't explode, but nothing more. Magic lessons were hard when you were on the run.

Unfortunately, when the three ran out of things about themselves to talk about they moved on to talk about him. Ciri was naturally curious about the man who was now her... protector? (Yes, let's go with that. Protector) And her curiosity wasn't satisfied with his grunts and one-word responses, so when he proved fruitless, she asked the two mages. Who was too damn happy about answering her, even if it was the correct answer or not. Besides, he was less than 2 feet away from them, they could at least pretend he was there, right?

By the time they arrived at the snow-covered mountains, he was all too happy to end their little journey.

"Well, look who it is, Geralt of Rivia," Vesemir greeted him with an embrace and a few strong pats in his back when they reached the gate to the fortress. "You know, for a loner, you have the most company this year," the old man jokes as he turns to his companions.

Vesemir welcomes the three females and they go inside. They make a small stop at the stables where they leave Roach before Vesemir shows them to their rooms. Geralt can see they are not the first ones to arrive, other horses have already been left there.

"So, is this where you were born?" Ciri asks as they walk through the old stone hallways.

"No," Geralt grunts. "This is where I was taught how to be a witcher,"

"Am I going to be taught how to be a witcher too?"

"No," he responds too fast. "You'll learn how to protect yourself, in case you need to," he says sternly. He should be more considerate with her, after everything that's been going on, but he can't help it.

"Don't worry, little one," Vesemir tells her. "You'll probably be able to do anything a witcher can. And with good timing, business has never been better for witchers!"

"Hmmm?"

"But I people hate witchers?" Triss asks as confused as the rest of them.

"Well, yes, they do," Vesemir agrees. "But compared to the last century, these two last decades have been wonderful for us. Ever since the great Epic Hymns about The White Wolf, The Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia have been going around more and more people are requesting our services. Your tales are painting us in a better light. Your little bard is making our lives easier, you should really thank that little dandelion of yours," Vesemir tells them.

"Hmmm." if only he could. He hadn't seen or heard about Jaskier since the dragon fiasco. He had been busy, though. And after everything that had happened and had been said, he doubted his the bard would be happy to see him.

"Alright, this is your room ladies, right next to Geralt's," they finally arrive. "I will see if we have anything for you to wear and I'll make sure one of the boys brings you another bed. That thing might be big, but I doubt you three would be able to sleep comfortably," Vesemir tells them as they enter the chambers.

"Oh, no, please, that won't be necessary!" Triss tells the older man.

"We won't be here long," Yenn adds after Triss.

"Nonsense! It might not be as fancy here as a royal court or some other bullshit like that, but you are guest here! If my boys bring somebody here, they are special and they will be treated as they deserve!" the man declares and then turns to the younger witcher. "Supper will be at 10, you might want to take a bath before that," he chuckles and leaves, patting his shoulder a few times.

"Hmmm,"

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Geralt knocks on the door next to his chambers when it's time for dinner. Triss opens the door, letting him in. She is dressed in a simple, yet nice green dress. Probably made it herself. He doubted a place full of witchers owned something like that. When he comes inside, he sees Yen (also in a dress made by herself) braiding Ciri's hair in front of a mirror in the corner of the room. The princess, unlike the two mages, was wearing the clothes they used to give the younger witchers.

"Time for dinner," he announces.

"We are almost done, be a little more patient," Yenn tells him without taking her eyes off her hair.

"Hmmm,"

"What could you be so excited about? Having dinner with more brooding tall men?" Triss chuckles at her comment as Ciri smiles humoured.

"Hmmm,"

Yennifer sighs tiredly and a few seconds later puts the hair down. "Perfect," she compliments and the three start going towards the dining hall.

Geralt, while the three mages are blissfully unaware, has been losing his mind. Coming to Kaer Morhen is supposed to be a season for him to relax and be with his brothers, but ever since he arrived he keeps getting whiffs of nostalgia. Of honey mixed with cedarwood. Of cheap fragrance and dirt. Of the sweet aroma of dandelions. It brings shivers down his spine and it makes his chest ache. It reminds him of pubs and inns and life on the Path. Of a constant melody, right by his side, commenting and praising and joking, but most importantly, never stopping.

He must be losing his mind if a place like this reminds him of the bard. The only time he had ever been here was through his words. When his brothers asked him about Toss a coin and the bard who was telling the epic stories of his adventures. He had never brought Jaskiel here. At the moment, it seemed wrong to bring him to the cold and bitter snow of Kaer Morhen. So why was he smelling the bard in here? As if he was there? As if Geralt had never pushed him away.

"Do you hear that?" Ciri interrupts his inner musing. It makes everybody stop and listen.

On the halls of what should be a cold mountain, the soft sound of strings and music catches their attention. They all rush to the source. Or Geralt rushes as the other three follow him. Because he knew that music. He had heard it be sung in pubs, heard as it manifested in a melody, heard it born from a humming. As he opens the door to the dining hall, the cold stone hallway gets filled with light and warmth. The slow singing that had once been a slight whisper, is now in full blast as his brothers, probably drunk out of their minds, sing along. Or at least try, as the only man with an instrument and tuned voice strouts on top of one of the table, strumming his lute with careful fingers as if they danced around the stings.

"Toss a coin to your witcher,

O' Valley of plenty,

O' Valley of plenty,"

"Is that... ?"

'Jaskiel... ?'

[tibo30]

[Quarantine Day 27, camera focuses on

Triss and Sabrina, squished into a closet together]

Triss: God I'm actually shaking, this

is huge. This is the most important

thing we've ever had to do. It's just

Such a massive responsibility.

Sabrina: look! I made a little man out of chewing gum.

Triss:...

[BEEP]

Triss: Okay, lets do this. Turn it on.

Sabrina: What do you mean?

Triss: The camera, turn it on.

Sabrina: I already did.

Triss: It's recording?

Sabrina: Yeah.

Triss: Now?

Sabrina: Yeah!

Triss: You' re unbelievable.

Sabrina, smiling: Thank you very much.

[BEEP]

Triss: Good evening, my name is Triss Merigold and this is Sabrina Glevissig.

Sabrina: We're students at Aretuza academy

Triss: The year is 2020 and we re

speaking from Aretuza, Thanned island.

These are uncertain times. Doctors and

healthcare workers are working hard to

find a cure for this incurable disease

and mass riots for toilet paper have

engulfed our stores. The world is

literally on fire. We' ve been ordered to remain inside our homes by the authorities-

Sabrina: You mean Tissaia?

Triss:.Yes...Worried for our own

safeties, Sabrina and I have constructed

this bunker.

Sabrina: Yeah, what we did was, we came

upstairs, we opened Tissaia's closet, we

got inside it and then we sat down.

Triss: We've taken the brave decision

to record our experience for future

historians-

Sabrina: Aye future historians, you' re

lookin' good!

Triss: -it's not going to be easy. At

this stage I've already lost all sense

of time. I have no idea how long we've

been here.

Sabrina: I would say 20 minutes or so.

Triss: Tissaia, Yenna, Philippa, Rita and Fringilla are trying to be strong, but they' re petrified.

Sabrina: They' re downstairs watching

Family Feud.

Triss: But they' re not enjoying it,

Sabrina! I've never seen Yenna this upset.

Sabrina: Well that's because she thought

we had Hot Cheetos but it turns out

someone had just put the empty bag back in the cupboard.

Triss: God knows when this will be

over, but when I eventually walk back

out into the world, I will look at

everything with new eyes. The sky, the

sea, the mountains... a situation like

this makes you appreciate all the things

you took for granted. I am grateful for

so much. But mostly, I'm

grateful for Tissai de Vries.

Sabrina: And I'm grateful for Hot Cheetos.

Triss: -The girls I met here are the most-

Sabrina: Tissaia and Aretuza, but also Hot

CheetoS.

Triss: I love those girls so dearly!

Sabrina: And I love-

Triss: I swear to God if you say Hot

Cheetos one more time, Sabrina-

Sabrina: But they' re amazing?

Triss: Okay that's it, get out of the

bunker.

Sabrina: You can't throw me out of the

bunker!

Triss: Well I am!

Sabrina: Fine! I'll make my own bunker

Triss: Knock yourself out!

[Sabrina gets out of the shot, it

refocuses on just Triss]

Sabrina:...Merigold?

Triss: ...What?

Sabrina: Tissaia went out to buy Hot Cheetos, you want some?

[camera shuts off]

[lwiamatka-a]

The Elder Blood

What is the Elder Blood?

The Elder Blood or Hen Ichaer, later known as Lara Gene, was a genetic program, a mutation similar to these of Witchers, that was carried out by powerful elven mages, known as Sages, for the purpose of creating an extraordinarily gifted child whose power would exceed their own. According to the prophecy of the elven diviner Ithlinne, the Child of Elder blood will one day save the elves from annihilation. The first, and last, successfully created Child of Elder Blood was Lara Dorren Aep Shiadhal, the daughter of King Auberon Muircetach and his wife Queen Shiadhal, who decided to go against her destiny and bonded with a human instead of an elf, thus shattering all plans regarding her offspring. Because it is a mutation, it has both its perks and side-effects.

The splitting of the Elder Blood.

Lara Dorren’s daughter, Riannon, gave birth to twins - Fiona and Amavet, which led to the gene being split into the latent gene, and the activator. The gene became weak and was deteriorating with every passing generation. It was restored, however, in Calanthe, the Queen of Cintra, thanks to the union between Adalia, Countess Garramone and Dagorad, King of Cintra. The restoration of the gene was not accidental. It was a plan created carefully by Adalia and Tissaia de Vries, as a way to create the child of prophecy that would stop the world from destruction. As a result of the sorceresses’ scheming, Adalia was offered to marry Dagorad, and out of their union Calanthe was born - the First Red Apple, the first carrier of Elder Blood since Riannon. The Brotherhood planned to raise the child and teach her how to use the power of the Elder Blood to destroy the Empire of Nilfgaard and save the world from White Frost. Sadly, their plans fell flat when Calanthe refused to take on the path of a sorceress, and chose to be a Queen instead.

Beauty and fertility.

Similarly to the Witcher mutations, Elder Blood increases its carrier’s sex drive. But, because its very purpose was to create very powerful children, in opposite to Witcher mutations that cause infertility, the Elder Blood increases the carrier’s sex drive, fertility and attractiveness, making the daughters of elder blood the most beautiful women of their time, respectively.

- Lara Dorren was absolutely beautiful. Avallac'h was obsessed with her. She was so beautiful that she literally frightened mortal men.  - Riannon was stunningly beautiful, as well, her husband Goidemar was so in love with her some thought she cast an evil curse on him. She had twins, as a side-effect of the increased fertility. - Fiona and Amavet. Fiona’s husband, while not in love with her, treated her like an ornate statue, or a praise. Amavet was a casanova who slept with countless girls. He started with those that were a lot younger, but quickly got bored and moved on to more experienced ladies He got a married countess to fall in love with him, gave her bastard twins and got murdered for it.  - Corbett, son of Fiona and Muriel, daughter of Amavet. Corbett slept with everything and everyone, he was known for having almost ruined Cintra with how many both male and female lovers he had, handing power and honours to them. Muriel was called the lovely harlot and the doe-eyed Muriel because of how beautiful and promiscuous she was. - Dagorad, son of Corbett and Adalia, daughter of Muriel. The only quite decent bunch, even though Adalia was still extremely beautiful, known in her youth in Temeria as the Beautiful Adalia, having married Duke Ragbard of Ellander who died barely a year later before marrying Dagorad.  - Calanthe - she is where the gene connected and was restored. She was the first carrier of the full gene since Riannon and so beautiful that the people of Skellige believed her to be a goddess incarnate. Thirty men sailed to Cintra from Skellige to at least get a glance of her beauty. - Pavetta literally rendered men speechless with her beauty. - Ciri grew so beautiful that a man fell to his knees in front of her wondering if she’s a mortal woman, an otherworldly creature or a goddess.

Side-effects.

The Elder Blood gene gives its carrier direct connection with the chaos, allowing them to draw from it and use its power raw, without having to pay back as much as regular sorceresses do. Or, so did the creators of the gene think. It hasn’t been observed yet, because all the carriers up to the current point in history had died young or (like Calanthe or Riannon) chose not to use their connection. If one was to, however, use the power excessively, they would sooner or later find themselves corrupted by the chaos. Slowly, but surely, the more energy they draw from it, the deeper they fall into its embrace. The Elder Blood teaches its carrier how to use itself. It feels like riding a bike, or re-visiting a place one had been to before, many, many years ago. It feels like memories slowly returning, as it pulls the carrier further into the chaos. Men cannot be the carriers of the full Elder Blood gene, only the latent or the activator, which is why Calanthe lost two of her unborn children - they both would have been boys, but they didn’t survive to term.

Calanthe’s Elder Blood.

Because of poor relationship with her mother and Calanthe’s distrust for mages and anything magic-related, she refused to even try and learn to use the magic that sleeps dormant inside of her. She knows not of the significance of the gene, nor does she care for it. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have the potential. If she only reached for the gift, she would possibly be the most powerful sorceress in history, similarly to Lara Dorren. Even without any training, when she’s scared or worried or mad, the aura of power around her can be overwhelming. She does happen to have the Elder Blood screaming episodes, although rare - when she yells at someone, even dogs go silent around the palace, the ceiling shakes. One of such screams happened to her during the Battle of Hochebuz. Back then, it was interpreted as a roar by the people, and earned her her title of the Lioness of Cintra.