#the witcher cahir

[redskull199987]

Heyy hii I'm not sure if you're still taking requests, but I'll try my luck. Can you write something about Cahir and the female Witcher reader? Thanks in advance if you write.

If I am being brutally honest, I had a lot of fun writing this. Season three renewed my love for Cahir, so I hope you like this:)))

A Bond

Cahir x female!witcher!reader Request

Word count:0.9k

Warnings:it's all fluffy. I probably got carried away and let my inner Jaskier come out

Summary:You and Cahir had been friends for a long time and as he needs your help, you don 't hesitate to be there for him…

Masterlist

You and Cahir had known each other for a long time. You had met him on your travels through the country, as he was attacked by the beast, you were hunting. He was rude at first, but still thanked you. 

The rest was history.

You started running into him over and over again. To a point where it was inevitable that a friendship would form. With you, Cahir could be himself. He was just a normal Person. No Nilfgaard, no white flame, no war. Nothing of that mattered to you. You were neutral. All you were interested in was his person. And he knew that your interest was genuine. And he let it happen. He let the friendship form and prosper. An unfeigned friendship that connected you. 

And when he was cast out, thrown away by his master, like an old doll he didn't want to play with anymore, Cahir came to you. He found comfort in you. He had been through so much, but for once in his life, he felt safe. At peace. He might even say “Home”.

Of course, he would never tell you that, but it surely was on his mind, everytime, he looked at you. Everytime you returned to his small hut, after finishing a Witcher contract. Bruised and battered, but back with him. And only him. Only Cahir got to see you like this. He took pride in knowing that he was the only person in this world, you would trust this far, besides your brothers maybe.

But you told him that you only saw them once a year, in the winter. You told him stories of Kaer Morhen and how you had grown up there, under Vesemir´s care.

You told him that it was hard for you at first, being the only female Witcher. But it had gotten better, the older you got. The more you learned and saw in this world. You realized that no one really cared, as long as they could use you for their dirty work. 

“How was it?”, Cahir asked, forcing himself to return to the present moment. He had let his thoughts wander, after a pleasant silence rose between you, as he carefully cleaned your wounds.

“It was alright.”, you finally said,”It was a small kikimora. Still young and inexperienced.”

“In fighting?”,Cahir asked, not really knowing a lot about the beasts that your job involved. You had told him some things, but a kikimora was new to him.

 You only smiled at him, before finally answering his question:”No, not in fighting. In killing."

He was quiet for a second, not knowing what to say, upon that statement. But luckily, you just continued recounting what had happened.

“The Monster´s head was worth a lot of coin though. I won't have to leave for at least a month. The money will be enough.”

Cahir smiled at you, glad that he got to spend more time with you.He slowly got up from his place in front of you and sat down beside you on the bed:”Thank you. You don't have to do this. Supporting me in my exile, I mean. But you still do it anyway. And for that I am thanking you.”

“Oh Cahir.”, you smiled, your hand rising to softly caress his face. He closed his eyes, letting himself fall into your gentle touch.

“I would proudly ride into death for you, without hesitation.”, you mumbled, as he opened his eyes. You heard how his heart picked up a beat. How his breath stocked for a second, his eyes lingering on your lips, instead of your yellow orbs, which were intently watching him, awaiting his next move. 

You had often thought about your relationship with him. Often let your mind wander to what ifs.

 What if you were more than just close friends? What if you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together. Never leaving each other. What if…

“I love you.”

At first you barely heard him. His words were so quiet. His voice shaking and his eyes darting everywhere else, but your face.  He wasn't usually this hesitant. He was an outgoing and stern person. Always sure of himself and his capabilities. He used to be a Nilfgaardian officer after all.

“Cahir.”, you mumbled, after a few seconds of burning silence. He finally looked at you. His expression now a bit more confident. His heartbeat had slowed and he finally dared to look you in the eye.

“I love you, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. With all my heart.”, you smiled, your eyes almost glowing with excitement.

Cahir didn't need to hear anything more, before he finally leaned in. Your eyes closed and his lips collided with yours. He was gentle and sweet. Passion laid in his actions. And you knew that he meant every little bit, he had told you.

“I love you.”, he said once again, before slowly pushing you back against the bed. You followed along with his movements, until he was hovering above you.

“I love you.”, you also repeated. You were bare in front of him. Not in a physical way, but emotionally. No one had ever known you as Cahir did. Not even your brothers. He knew your heart and soul. Something that you had shown no one before.

And as he slowly lathered kisses over your body, your moans and whines mixing with his groans. As you fully let him in, you knew that he was the only one  you would ever love this way. He became part of you and you part of him. 

 An unfeigned bond, that was never to be broken again.

[megraen]

Fiona Leask was in a world not of her own, misplaced into a realm full of monsters and magic, something deemed impossible. After two years of searching for a way home, she had to accept that she would never see her loved ones again, and teaming up with Jaskier may not have been her most brilliant move since coming to The Continent, nor would the events that followed.

[lina-lovebug]

Bro Cahir deserves more love. I'm gonna write a whole fanfic on this man

[kierancaz]

Ppl shipping Cahir and Ciri is absolutely ridiculous to me bc not only is he 25 and she’s 16 but SHE SAYS IT HERSELF HE TOOK EVERYTHING FROM HER.

He’s literally part of the reason her only family left died, helped destroy her home and slaughter her people, tried to kidnap her to bring her back to Nilfgaard, and then spent like the whole first season hunting her to try and get back.

[justinewt]

Nostalgia For Innocence - THE WITCHER Fanfiction Chapter Four

[THE WITCHER FANFICTION-MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: After ending her year-long imprisonment in a dungeon in Cintra, Revynah had gone to a friend of her mother's, Anika, also a druid from whom she hoped to get some help before following Geralt's tracks to Aretuza. In this cottage in the woods, she rested, regained her strength and was confronted with difficult emotions and memories that she had long suppressed.

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: The Witcher season 3 SPOILERS Part 1 (some dialogues from episode 3 "Reunion"), title based off a quote from Albert Camus, violence, blood, guts, fights, heart-to-heart, fluff

Revynah looked at the little cottage that stood among the trees, a light mist floating in the woods. Gently tugging on the reins, she guided her horse with her and looked around the property, walking past the plant drying racks, when a man's voice spoke a few feet behind her. The mage turned and exchanged a look with him. She frowned slightly, wondering what the unknown man was doing in her mother's friend's house.

“Who are you?”

“I should be the one asking this question. I live here.” She parted her lips, about to respond something and ask him again who he was when another voice rose nearby and said her name. A voice she hadn’t heard since she was a young girl. Anika stepped towards them, a visible look of surprise on her face as she stared at the young woman. The man seemed surprised as well but not for the same reason.

“Otto, this is Visenna’s daughter. Revynah.”

“Anika, you should be resting.” He suddenly looked worried to see the druid up and running and took a few steps towards her, gently grabbing her shoulders. They exchanged a few words, Revynah heard him insist that she go back inside but she pushed him aside and returned her attention to the sorceress.  

“I never thought I’d see you again after Visenna sent you off to Aretuza. Let’s go inside.” She had a soft smile stretching the corners of her lips and motioned for Otto to get the young woman’s horse and led the latter inside the small house. Revynah quietly followed her. The smells of the dried plants and flowers hung above her head brought her memories of her mother’s home, and candlelit lanterns on the walls bringing hints of warm orange light here and there to the room. The druidess had her sit on a small bed nestled in an alcove. She briefly closed her eyes and the first thought that crossed her mind after she sat down was how comfortable the mattress was and how soft the sheets felt under her hand. She hadn't had such luxury in a year, and she had missed having an actual bed. With her back to her, standing on the other side of the room, Anika leaned over a pot that was simmering gently over a fire and she slowly stirred what was brewing in it with a wooden ladle. “How did you end up here after a century?”

“I summoned a portal.” Anika stopped in her gesture and hung the ladle on a small notch in the wall. She knew that the druidess’ question didn’t ask for such a literal answer, but she was tired and didn’t think before deciding to be sarcastic out of the blue. The woman turned around and Revynah gave her the reply she wanted. “I’m looking for Geralt, but I ran into some troubles.”

“If you had arrived earlier, you would have met him. He was just here.”

“What? When?” She instantly went to stand to get closer, but pain shot through her back after accidentally pulling on the skin around the open wounds and she winced, falling back onto the bed behind her. She brought her hand to her side, her palm hovering over her back without daring to touch it. Anika set the Geralt subject aside and handed her a small vial. She drank it, figuring it was something to ease her pain and let out a sigh. Anika sat beside her, silently telling her to let her take a look at what was hurting her. Revynah gritted her teeth as she slipped her arms out of her sleeves and held the front of her robe above her chest as the garment fell down her back, revealing the pitiful state it was left in after the tortures she had endured for months on end. She had gotten rid of the grim covering her body by washing herself at that famr early, but the wounds were probably getting infected anyway since she didn’t have access to potions and because of the toll it took on her, she clearly didn’t have the energy and power to heal herself to such extent. Taking care of her health would be possible with Anika’s help though. Revynah turned her head upon hearing the wooden door of the house open and close as Otto came in. A silence followed as he witnessed the damage. He looked in shock and meeting Anika’s gaze, he went to take something from the crowded surface of the dining table and went back outside, leaving the two women alone.

“What kind of troubles did you run into?”

“Nilfgaard.” The mere mention of the Southern Empire of the continent was enough to throw a chill over the whole room. She would never tell how ironic it was for her to end up tortured by the very man she had agreed to serve after he pulled her out of the rotten hole in which the mages languished during the entirity of the usurper's reign which lasted for two decades, until he was overthrown a little less than ten years ago. Emhyr had been the man to save them and until a couple years ago, she used to think he was the ruler she wanted to follow but now, even if it meant losing Cahir to the White Flame, she would never go back to being a pawn under Nilfgaard’s thumb and in any case, if she did go back, she would be sentenced to death immidietaly, unless she got better and retrieved her full potential and power. She might have never graduated from Aretuza but she was still a pretty powerful mage. The simple fact that she survived so much torture without ever taking any potions was astounding and showed the great extent of her strength and resilience.

Now, she wanted to focus on reuniting with her brother, and it was all that mattered to her. While Anika busied herself with preparing potions and ointments to help heal her wounds and body, Revynah proceeded to tell her about all she went through during her imprisonment in the dungeons of Cintra, how she was stripped naked and hanged from the roof of a cold cell and flogged almost everyday, pieces of her skin and flesh ripped off by the repeated blows, drenching the floor with her own blood as it streamed down her body all day long, how she was sometimes waterboarded when the guards were instructed to stop beating her or she would die too quickly. She told her that on top of everything, when she was free from torture, she still had to drink rancid wine with other prisoners that tested it for poison for the emperor and how she was barely given any food ever. She glossed over her involvement with Nilfgaard in the late 50s and purposefuly chose not to tell the druidess about what she did in the past, including the acts it took for her to get the name of The Aguara of Nilfgaard. Anika didn't need to know, and it wasn't relevant to the tortures. Throughout her bloody story, Anika said nothing, letting her tell all the details she wanted to say outloud. She then promised her she would help and do her best to alleviate her suffering and fix her, though the scars it caused in her mind would be hers to tackle. Revynah drank another potion, to help fight infections and enhance healing. She felt the heat emanating from Anika's hands as she stretched her palms out facing her bruised back, concentrating all her power on it. She grunted when she felt her skin slowly pulling on itself to close the wounds.

“Leave the scars. Don't make them fade away.” She asked, gritting her teeth. Anika didn’t try to argue with her and withdrew her hands once thick raise scars formed all over the skin of her back. Looking at them was unsettling and disturbing and It was far from pretty or nicely healed but it was exactly why Revynah wanted to keep them this way, because if she ever found herself on a battlefield again, she would show them off to shock anyone who would lay eyes upon them and the first person she wanted to shock was Cahir, to try and knock some sense into him. She never wanted to lose him and if she were to lose him to Emhyr’s influence, she would let him go and stop fighting but if she could bring him back on her side, she would try anything. Anika applied an ointment to the scars before wrapping a clean cloth all around her torso so the ointment could penetrate her skin and then gave her a potion that knocked her out of sleep-in seconds so she could sleep peacefully. without being bothered by any pain. She had that same dream again where she saw a tall, broad-shouldered man on top of a hill, with white hair and wearing this necklace with a wolf's head on it. This time, when the man disappeared and left her alone, she found herself in the blink of an eye at the edge of a cliff, the waves crashing against the rocks below. Looking around, she recognized Aretuza in the distance, the school perched on the magical island of Thanedd with its tall tower reaching almost to touch the cloudy sky and its palace beside it. She stood right at the edge of the cliff and woke up when she fell but as her back hit the water, she saw the witcher from the wolf school standing where she was a second prior, though she couldn’t discern his face.

She felt somewhat better after having some rest and straightened up on the bed. Anika and Otto were seated at the table, eating the brew that had been cooking in the cauldron. They noticed that Revynah had woken up and the druid ended their discussion to bring her a bowl which she devoured. She hadn't even realized how hungry she was, she had gotten so used to this constant feeling of emptiness and void in her stomach from being starved over the past months. She thought that she must be a very pitiful sight, she must have lost so much weight since her imprisonment but the fact that her wounds were closed, and healing was a step forward. The rest would follow, unfortunately, she couldn't stay with Anika indefinitely, she would have to leave soon. She got up to peek out the window as she saw the sun's rays still beaming outside.

“It’s morning. The potion you drank put you into a heavy sleep yesterday afternoon. Get some more brew.” She thanked Otto and refilled her bowl to the brim, the soup almost spilling on the floor at every step. She sat next to Anika.

“I can’t stay. I need to get going.”

“You’re very much like your brother, or maybe he gets it from you.”

“Gets what?” She glanced at Anika, taking a spoonful of the brew.

“You’re both so driven.” She gave her a sweet look. Revynah looked into space, thinking about her brother.

“I wish we had the chance to grew up together.” Her nostalgia got less sad and warmer as she remembered the cute little boy Geralt was, brown curls, full cheeks, always running after her. Her little brother. But he had grown since. She felt a wave of regret and sadness wash over her, but her nostalgia got warmer as the memories of their childhood came back in her mind, playing out before her eyes. She chuckled, hearing her brother’s bubbly laughs echo in her mind. “We only ever wanted to please our mother. To make her happy. I wanted to become a druid, just like her. I always helped wounded animals... I would take Geralt mushroom picking with me too. He almost ate a poisonous mushroom one day. I’d gotten distracted...”

“Visenna had always been proud of you. She said that as a child, you already had so much potential. That’s why she thought sending you to Aretuza would be the best option for you.” There was a heaviness to Anika’s voice and the use of the past tense as she spoke of the druidess made her eyebrows twitch. She broke into a cold sweat when the realization of what Anika’s gaze was hiding hit, though she kept a calm expression on her face.

“She’s dead?” There was a silence and Anika didn't even have to move her lips to answer her question.

“She talked about you and Geralt a lot in the end.”

“What happened?” She enquired in a low voice. She wanted to know. “Did she suffer?”

“Geralt asked the same thing.” She chuckled softly but her expression got grave as she continued. The two women looked at each other. “She was mistaken for an elf while helping a villager. She was beaten very badly. Does that make you feel better or worse?”

“I never wanted her to hurt.” Revynah’s eyes drifted to the side, and she stared at her soup getting cold in her bowl without really looking at it. Giving them some privacy for their conversation, Otto quietly stood up and went to take care of something somewhere else in the cottage. “Just wanted her to know what she did.”

“Maybe you didn’t grow up with your brother, Revynah but even apart, you became very similar. It is as if you each have a mind of your own but share the same thoughts. Geralt said the exact same thing when I asked him this question.” She sighed. “Your mother knew. Love for a child forces parents to make the hardest choices of their lives. Impossible ones, even. Chances are, they toil over it for the rest of their lives.”

“What does Geralt remembered of our lives?”

“He said your mother smelled like embers. From—”

“From keeping those measly fires alive for the long nights.” A melancholic smile dawned on her face.

“He remembered the hunger and how you and your mother’s stomachs growled twice as loud as his.”

“I always gave most of my food to Geralt.” Revynah nodded, her eyes progressively getting tearier and as she blinked, a tear rolled down her cheek but her voice ddin’t break. “She used her magic to create elaborate meals that we couldn’t afford. What— what else did he say?”

“That he would have done anything to make her smile. He spoke of the day she left him. She needed water so he went to get her some.”

“Yes. I wanted to go get it with him. He was so little. I wanted to help him lift the bucket of water because I thought it might be too heavy for him but, she drove away before he came back.” She frowned, slightly shaking her head. “I started telling her he wasn’t back yet. I asked her to wait for him that I would go find him and bring her the water quicker, but she told me to sit and be quiet. I didn’t understand what was happening. All I could think about was Geralt. I knew he would be scared when he saw we left him. I didn’t know, so I thought… I thought we would go back for him, but we were leaving the forest. I remember feeling so anxious when I saw this huge, dark tower. And Tissaia… she was so intimidating. I cried. I begged mother not to leave me and she just asked me to be good and promised to come back to pick me up when I finished studying at Aretuza.”

“She loved you the best she could. To save you, she had to let you go.”

“She didn’t save me. She pushed down a spiral of loneliness and loss. Oh, I hated her for it… This can’t have been the only choice.”

“It wasn’t. It’s simply the one she made.” She put a comforting hand on her arm, driving her attention on it. Revynah frowned stronger, closing her eyes shut.

“She never came back at Aretuza. Or maybe she did, how could I know? I hated it so much there that I ran away first chance I got before graduation. I thought I’d managed to hide from the Brotherhood, get a normal life… I didn’t get sterilized at the academy, so I even had a family for a while but, I guess I’d never been that well hidden from them.” She clenched her fist. “I had a son. I even named him after Geralt because I thought he died. The Brotherhood, they got my family killed. My child. The man I married. Even his parents. They didn’t leave anything on their way. So, once again, I ran. I ended up in Nilfgaard. I thought I was far enough from the mages. This time, I was, but I lost myself in chaos.” She didn’t want to tell her about all she did at the time, but she felt the need to say it out loud to someone. Emhyr knew but she never actually told him directly. She needed to look at someone in the eyes while confessing to this. Anika kept quiet. There was nothing she could say that would ease the pain Revynah was feeling from everything she went through in her life. “I spent the next 6 decades, alone in a foreign land and I— I killed people. In every village I came by, I killed a few villagers. In less than, I don’t know, ten years, people started talking about an aguara gone rogue, and I got the name of The Aguara of Nilfgaard. There was never lots of mages there so I was, with too much power and too many feelings I couldn’t cope with. I was angry at everyone and everything…”

“Revynah…” Anika’s hand slipped from her arm when the sorceress stood up, wiping away tears with the back of her hand.

“I have to go now. There are things I need to get done before trying to find Geralt. Did he tell you where he was going?”

“He left for Aretuza.”

“Then I’ll go back to Aretuza.”

“Wait. Before you go, I have something to give you.” Revynah watched Anika go get a small box in a drawer and come back. She looked at her in confusion, unsure what she was talking about. She reluctantly took the box from her hands. “It was your mother’s.”

“My mother’s?” She opened it, not really expecting much from whatever was inside but the shine of the chalcedone amulet on a thin and fine golden band got her to widen her eyes. She couldn’t get her eyes off the piece of jewelry. “What is it?”

“It was a diadem she wore. She wanted me to pass it on to you.”

“How do I— how do I use it? Do I just wear it?”

“I never used it myself, but she told me it grants you protection against mind spells. It allows you to understand the nature of every wound or illness and to cast spells on demand, like telempathy and detection.” As Revynah carefully slid her fingers to pick it up from the box, which she then put down on the table, she went to put it around her head when Anika stopped her for a second. “She also said that it greatly affected her physical and mental health over time. You need to be careful.”

“I will. Thank you, Anika.” She gave a nod to Otto before leaving the house. She had a new destination now, Aretuza. But before going there, she had a stop to make before heading towards the magic school. She had something before finally reuniting with her estranged brother. She walked to her horse and put the diadem in the bag hanging from the side of the saddle and she mounted.  She rode away from the house, taking a moment to weigh the words that had been said in Anika and Otto's home before opening a portal to get to where she wanted faster. What she was planning to do required for night to fall so she went to the nearest village to eat something at the inn. She got off her horse, observing the few people around, a child was playing with a dog near the fence, a woman was sitting in front of a house and washed a cloth in a wooden basin and a couple men talked loudly near the door of the roadhouse and a few others walked around the place, living their daily lives. Revynah grabbed the diadem and placed it around her head, passing her hair over the band. She was curious to try its powers. She tied the rein along some other horses and caressed the mare.

“I still need to name you.” The animal puffed out, whipping the air with its tail. She took a hot second to make up a name and decided to name her Ròswen, which meant white rose in the Nilfgaardian dialect. Obviously after so long, Revynah spoke the language fluently and she chose a name referencing the gift she had made to Cahir a couple years ago, and it was fitting because the mare’s dress was as white as snow. The sorceress then walked into the inn with a small pouch in her hands, with coins in it. She used florens for so long too that she had to double check if her money was the right currency. She got herself some ale at the bar and went to sit in a corner. There weren’t that many people, it was a small town, and it was just noon. She figured it might be livelier in the evening, but she didn’t have the luxury to spend the rest of her day in this hole. After eating a plate of food, she ordered, she spotted a lone guy on the other side of the room.

She had an idea to bring some fun to this dull town. She stood up, walking straight towards him and pretended to accidentally spill her drink on his boots so she could get up close with him. He groaned and started complaining but she bent over, plunging her eyes in his. The two guys that she had seen talk outside were now sitting at the bar, chatting. She ordered to go start a fight and to groan like a rabid animal. She sat in his place, leaning against the wall, nonchalantly eating the chicken he left in his plate and watched the men jump at each other, causing some mayhem in the small establishment. She enjoyed the show for a moment until the guy was knocked unconscious because even though his face was covered in his own blood, he kept going, as if he was mad. She had finished his food anyway and quickly disappeared from the village before people came at her for being a witch and causing trouble, which she was doing, and they would be right because her causing trouble in a quiet town was absolutely related to her having powers. She also stole the man’s knife after he left it on the table.

She went back into the forest, out of sight and when she was about to open a portal, she saw an animal with orange fur not far from there. The poor fox seemed in bad shape, and she decided to approach. Exactly as Anika had told him, the diadem let her know from a single glance that his hind legs were broken and he was dying, sprawled at the foot of a tree. He wasn't a young or baby fox; he was an adult and quite a big one but that didn't change the fact that he was dying. She chose to put it out of its misery and took a deep breath before slitting his throat. She watched a pool of blood grow and taint the dirt when she got an idea. When she first heard that people named her the aguara, she decided to play the part and skinned a dead fox, it was as big as the one right there and she wore the skin as a cape. But back then she had gotten the whole thing preserved so it wouldn’t rot. Maybe she would do the same for this one or discard it later. She wasn’t resuming her role as the Aguara of Nilfgaard anyway. She proceeded to cut the skin off its flesh and broke the neck to pull the skull of the corpse. Her hands and forearms were covered in blood but the more blood the better. She stood up and put the head over her hair and she closed her eyes when she felt blood dripping over her face and she got back on her mount, quickly opening a portal to get to the forest near Cintra, to the exact spot where the soldiers dumped Fringilla and she. She tied her horse to a tree and grabbed some of the ingredients she got from Anika’s house, some saltpeter and phosphorus to make a dragon’s dream bomb for later. She followed the smell of the bodies in decomposition and slowly walked around the fire and she waited until nightfall. When she heard the voices of a couple soldiers approaching with a cart, she knew it was almost time.

“Heavy bastard.”

“Let’s get this over with.” As they swung the first corpse, throwing it on the others, it rolled down and bumped into Revynah's ankles. The silence that followed showed her that they noticed her standing there. She heard them draw their swords out of their scabbards. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Turn around now. Show your face.” The other tried to give her an order but she disappeared. Distraught, they looked around, squinting their eyes as they rose their voices, ordering her to stop this sorcery and show herself. When she did, she was standing behind behind the two men. The flames of the fire below reflected on her bloodstained face. They let out an audible gasp, stepping back and brandished their swords at her. They were shaking, trying to keep their composure but she was aware of the fear she subjected them too. Those two men were among the soldiers that took part in her torture, and she wanted revenge over them, but her plan was also to send a message to Emhyr. She took one step after another towards them.

“Stay back!” A smirk appeared on her face and her lips moved in a whisper. The soldier screamed as his wrist suddenly twisted with a sharp bone-crunching sound. He let go of his sword and it fell to the ground as he held his arm, loudly crying in pain. His peer was frozen in place, unable to run away and it was due to the amulet sitting on her forehead. He was staring at the bright stone with wide eyes.

“Pick it up.” The soldier picked up his weapon and as if in a trance, he sliced in broken hand off and plunged the sharp blade deep into his abdomen. He staggered and fell on the bodies below. He gagged on the blood that filled his mouth and gave a wide look of terror at Revynah who was unphased by the sight of his death. Her head snapped back towards the second guy when she heard a branch crack under his foot. He froze in place again, still holding his sword towards the sorceress. She reached out to the side and attracted the bloodied sword to her hand. It was pulled out of the soldier by an invisible force, and he was briefly lifted, falling back with a soft thump. The man in front of her stood his ground as she approached, and their swords clashed in a concert of metallic noises. She let the blade of her sword slip, and she saw a surge of confidence and arrogance in his eyes. When he was just beginning to believe he was getting the upper hand again, she struck so quickly that it took him a second to realize she had severed the hand that held his sword and cut him across the stomach. He dropped to his knees and stared at the guts he was keeping from falling out with his remaining hand. Revynah grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at her. She must have been a real sight of horror to him after what she had just done, and the mere fact that she was wearing a dead fox skin and her face and hands were as if made up with the blood staining them.

“W-why?” He tried to ask as he choked on his blood. She crouched down, still holding his face, clenching her fingers so tightly on his jaw that the bone was close to shattering under the pressure.

“Look closer, and ask again.” Her voice was cold and accusatory. He stared at her, and she saw in his eyes that he recognized her.

“It’s not possible. Y-you were dead.”

“I don’t die. You can’t kill me.” She raised her voice, shouting in his face with rage and resentment. She quickly gathered herself as she felt the thrill of the revenge killing come back and she herself got scared of where her mind might go. Wanting to get this over with quickly, she called upon the mind control power of the stone and ordered him to get up, hold his guts until he reached Cintra and ask the first soldier he came across that he needed to talk to Emhyr about urgent matters and when brought to him, to tell the White Flame that the Aguara lived and then let himself die at his noble feet.

With a sigh, she watched the soldier move unsteadly, staggering among the trees as he walked away towards the fortified city. The final stage of his plan could now unfold. She hissed at her horse and followed her whinny to find her in the dark. She untied the rein from the tree, got on her mount and trotted back to the fire, taking in her hand the bomb she had earlier. She threw it to the ground and sped her horse away as the bomb released a cloud of gas that quickly spread around the dumping ground. The flames danced dangerously close to the smoke and the forest turned into a huge inferno. At that very moment, Revynah rode at full speed through a portal to get herself to Gors Velen. The island on which Aretuza was standing was magic and she couldn't conjure portals to get her directly to the school so the Temerian city was the closest she could get. Taking advantage of the calm of the night, she skirted the town and went to the water's edge where she removed the fox skin, placing it on her mare's rump and she took off her dress to clean herself and wash the blood of her hair and skin, using the bandage as a a cloth. She bathed in the water, closing her eyes to let herself be lulled by the sound of the waves.

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Published (08/08/2023) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405​ @kika64

[powerofadyingsun]

Ahem, vicovarian..

me waiting to see cahir again in s3

[nopekaat]

Currently sketching the hanza for the first time 👀

Drawing geralt is my worst nightmare I don’t know why hhh

[onlymagpie]

For the doodle prompt: perhaps the fish soup scene in Baptism of Fire? Maybe Geralt reluctantly peeling the vegetables after Dandelion tells him to? To me that's one of the most heartwarming scenes in the entire series. :)

you're so based for this anon

[chaoticatgwent]

Decided to stop lurking and finally set up a place hopefully strong enough to hold my obsession with these idiots <3

[mentoskova]

Cahir

commission for @andordean <3

[megraen]

When Fiona Leask first awoke on The Continent, she was pulling herself from the Pontar River that boarded Redania and Temeria. Her body was fatigued, like all strength ripped from her as if she’d been running for days. At the time, she could only remember sitting a distance from Stonehenge in the English countryside of Salisbury Plains of Wiltshire County. She’d been sketching the ancient stone monument in an old leather-bound journal her father had gifted her for her twenty-first birthday just months prior. Another gift from her parents had been an all-expenses paid historical tour of the United Kingdom for her to experience and learn about her ancestors and her homeland. So when she awoke in the rapids of that river, struggling to swim and coughing up her lungs, she had assumed that she had somehow ended up in the River Avon, which ran southeast of the stone monument. With little strength, Fiona had been able to drag herself to a nearby bank, dragging her soaked body across dirt, stones and sticks. At the same time, she fought to regain her breath before finally rolling onto her back to gaze up at the sky, the midday sun looming overhead in a patch of sky opened up between a thicket of treetops. 

Fiona didn’t even get a chance for her mind to process how she’d ended up in the river nor how she managed to just survived such an ordeal when an eerie sound perked her ears. A gurgly screech was like something she’d never heard before. Fiona fought through the pain that wracked her body to sit up on her elbow. But what she saw made her freeze. Her eyes widened as they landed on a trio of bloated humanoid-looking creatures. Skin blue and covered in scales and webbed hands and toes, they hunched over as their large white pupilless eyes were trained on her, moving towards her. Fiona could only lay there as they shuffled towards her like foul monsters out of a nightmare. Not even a scream could force its way out of her clenched lips. They were foul-looking monsters straight out of a nightmare or some grotesque horror movie. With shuddering breaths, Fiona’s eyes slowly closed, giving in and accepting defeat as the creatures came closer, their wet feet padding along the dirt. 

There was the sound of something moving fast, its feet thudding against the riverbank as they moved. Fiona heard the swings as something cut through the air, the sickly sounds of flesh being hacked off in single blows and blood splattering the earth. She finally released the breath she’d been holding when her eyes shot open, taking in the gruesome sight before her. The hulking stranger moved with such speed and grace that it was as if he was dancing between the creatures as his silver blade sliced completely through limbs. Time seemed to move slowly as she watched it all unfold before her, her breathing beginning to return to a steady rhythm. With a final swing of his sword, the man spun, his blade flicking downwards as the last of the creature's blood gripped from the steel. He was breathing hard as his amber eyes focused on the woman lying in the dirt before him, allowing Fiona to take in his appearance. The man was dressed like someone from a Renaissance festival or the Live Action Roleplaying scene with his old worn clothes made from cotton and leather, his brown stringy hair half tied up to keep it out of his face, the right side badly scarred. He was Eskel, a Witcher of School of the Wolf, based out of Kaer Morhen.

[angelellipsis-devilofdots]

we got it guys

[disdaidal]

"I do not wish to fight you." THE WITCHER S03E06

[justinewt]

Never Lost, Always Found - THE WITCHER Fanfiction Chapter Five

[THE WITCHER FANFICTION-MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (SUMMER 2025)

Summary: Geralt was in Aretuza, so Aretuza she went. She returned to this school free from the tutelage of some teacher or emperor but not free from love. Still she desperately tried to find her brother, and still she tried to bring Cahir back to her side, despite her anger for the latter. And she wasn't sure she could achieve both. But if she didn't try to bring back to her the two men she loved most, now that she had lost everyone else, she would have no hope to cling onto, for the third, and maybe final time.

Words: 9.6k

Warnings: The Witcher season 3 Part 2 SPOILERS (episode 6 "Everybody Has a Plan, Till They Get Punched in the face", episode 7 "Out of the Fire, Into the Frying Pan", episode 8 "The Cost of Chaos"), violence, blood, guts, fights, heart-to-heart, title is a reference to a line of dialogue said by Yennefer to Ciri

Her hair done in a braid that fell down her back, the diadem’s chaceldone shining on her forehead, she tugged gently on the reins, bringing her horse to a stop as she looked at the academy in the distance, taking a deep breath. She had taken a boat to reach the island early in the morning and here she was, back to this place, this time neither as a student nor as a Nilfgaardian mage. She knew that Geralt was within the palace walls right now and she wondered what reaction he would have when he saw her. She feared he would be angry with her for leaving with their mother and abandoning him in the woods, but she couldn't turn back now.

As she was about to continue her way, her gaze was caught by a strange, unnatural fog spreading in the bay. Frowning and squinting, she dismounted from her horse and approached the edge of the cliff. Around a dozen of hooded figures pulling boats on shore stood out from the mist. Something was happening on Thanedd. Revynah watched them head for the mouth of a cavern in the cliff and she quickly grabbed her black cloak from the pocket at her saddle before teleporting herself behind the newcomers. She had no idea who they were, but it was easy to understand their goal was to attack Aretuza. Tissaia would probably be unable to open the doors for her, so they were her ticket in. Her head hooded and tilted forward, no one seemed to notice her, and she blended into the crowd grabbing the bow that was handed to her as she passed. She looked at the tip of the arrow she was given and recognized it was made of dimetirium, which alarmed her. They wanted to handicap the mages by depriving them of their powers. The people she was amongst had to be from Nilfgaard for them to be so eager to come at the sorcerers. Then it hit her, and her eyes froze, staring into space. If they were Nilfgaard, maybe one of the figures of the group was Cahir.

They walked up a flight of stairs carved in the rock. She glanced around as she found herself among the first to climb the steps and followed suit with the others, going to stand against the wall to the sides, as three hooded figures walked up the passage they had left for them. She watched them as the one walking ahead of them raised her hands above her head. There was a thumping sound and the wall in front of them lowered itself, letting them inside a chamber. Tissaia stood there already, in the middle of the room, alone. She looked distraught. As everyone around her took their positions and unveiled their faces, revealing Cahir alongside the queen of the elves, Francesca, and her husband, Revynah raised her head and met the gaze of the headmistress of Aretuza. The sorceresses’ thoughts echoed in her mind as she wondered what was going on here. She had never been fond of Tissaia but she didn't want her thinking she was with the enemy.

“Today, we reclaim Aretuza as our own and we bring the Elder Blood princess home.” At the same time Filavandrel spoke, the mages made their entrance, coming to stand by Tissaia’s side as time seemed to slow down for a second. Revynah chose this moment to reveal herself and dropped the cape to the ground, letting go of the bow. Cahir looked over his shoulder and his face dropped, the confidence in his eyes fading away in an instant, as he caught a brief glimpse of the woman that had been his lover of many years, before she teleported beside Tissaia. The latter gave her an appreciative look, thanking her for her support without saying a word and Revynah nodded. She turned her head towards Cahir, who didn't seem so sure of himself anymore, and was quite shocked to see her there. She wondered if she had been haunting his dreams like he did hers and given the way he stared at her, literally unable to look any other way, she had her answer.

“You will never take Aretuza.” They stood their grounds, gathering their powers and the headmistress put up a magic wall to shield them from the intruders. Without taking his eyes off her, Cahir called to the archers, and they bowed their elbows.

“It’s dimetirium.” Revynah shouted, warning her peers as he ordered his people to fire. She ducked and dodged an arrow which went to bury itself right in the heart of the mage right behind her. An entire volley of arrows pierced the protective veil generated by Tissaia and more of them collapsed to the ground. The archers were their priority. They deflected the arrows that kept flying at them and Cahir yelled, telling them to keep going as he engaged in hand-to-hand combat. The light emanating from the stone on Revynah's forehead intensified. She had always been somewhat powerful but feeding her chaos with this new source of power was exhilarating. It felt like she had gained access to an endless source of magic that she could effortlessly tap into. She felt like the most powerful with in the continent. She zealously got rid of some enemies and took her place facing Cahir. They didn't seem to be able to decide whether to attack and turned around each other, fending off blows coming their way.

“How does the White Flame like the new forest outside Cintra?”

“You burned it down?” She levitated a sword off the ground and controlled it to attack Cahir without taking the slightest step towards him, knowing that he would counter her maneuvers perfectly. She counted on it. Hurting him wasn't her goal.

“Oh, I did more than that. I sent a message.” She held her chin high, slightly twitching her hand with every move of the blade. What cahir perhaps didn't see was that she was backing him into a corner. On purpose, of course. When a Scoiatel tried to attack her from the side, she snapped his neck, without even looking at him and he fell to the floor like a vulgar ragdoll. Cahir got distracted and widened his eyes at the sight, as if, in that instant, he got scared of Revynah’s powers and stumbled but he still reacted quickly when she kept on attacking him with the levitating sword.

“That soldier. He was missing a hand, and his guts were falling out. He kept repeating the same thing—"

“The Aguara lives.” She nodded, twisting his mind with the stone and forcing visions into his head so he would hear her voice overlapping with the one of agony of the man she put to death as he said those three words, her facial features merging with the ones of a rabid fox. She took no pleasure in trying to instill terror in him, but she was upset and hurting. “Emhyr didn’t tell you what it meant, did he? That it was about me? He didn't want you to know that I was alive.” Her voice got louder as she got carried away by her anger. She had felt - and still felt - betrayed by the one she had loved. “Not that knowing he had me tortured and starved for a whole year would have made much of a difference to your undying loyalty to him, would it, Cahir?”

“Revynah—” She grabbed the sword mid-air and pushed Cahir against the wall, hidden behind a pillar in a corner of the chamber and immobilized him, bringing the blade to his neck, a drop of blood beaded on his skin and spread over the sharp edge of the blade. Their faces less than a couple inches apart, their chests heaving against each other’s, they stared into each other's eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

“Of course you did.” Her tone softened. Looking at him so intensely revived a warm feeling in her chest. She felt his fast pulse throbbing in his neck, beneath her fingers. “He had everything to gain by letting you believe it. Your loyalty is as much your best quality as it is your worst flaw.”

“I saw your face… at night… and whenever I looked at my reflection in the mirror... I couldn't forgive myself. It felt like you were always there, looking over my shoulder, but when I turned… you were gone, and I was alone.”

“Stop lamenting, Cahir. Be your own man. Do not lose yourself to Emhyr.” Her voice quivered in frustration. Her words were just as much a lament, a final plea to make him stop following Emhyr so blindly.

She hoped the love and bond they shared would be enough for him to realize he shouldn't remain on the emperor's side, or they would become enemies, and she would have to kill him. She suddenly turned her head as she heard the doors slam shut one after the other, trapping them all in the chamber. It was Francesca. She was covered in blood, on her knees with Fringilla by her side and her eyes darted left and right. She looked up and the ring of fire that hovered above them fell from the sky, crashing down on them. Revynah held out her hand, shielding her and Cahir from the flames that engulfed the whole room. She gritted her teeth, her face tensed, and she grunted under the effort that was required of her. It was in that moment that she felt the exhaustion after not having slept since she had visited Anika and having worn the diadem ever since, but her survival instincts and her will to protect their lives gave her the energy necessary to hold on under the flames. When the wave passed, what was left was no more comforting. Screams of despair and pain, people on fire. She came to her senses, caught her breath, and pushed Cahir away, turning around to face two armored men behind her. Fatigue was visible on her face and yet she engaged in a sword fight, using her powers to accentuate the speed of her attacks, taking her opponents by surprise with her every move. When she cut off the head of one of them, there was a brief pause in the fight as the gesture was sharp and sudden. The body fell heavily, and the head rolled on the ground. She stepped towards the second, brandishing her sword. He countered and she raised her free hand, closing it into a fist as she pulled it towards her. His own sword was drawn to his neck and as she passed her hand across her throat, the blade slit his, cutting deep into his skin. Helpless against the sorceress, he widened his eyes and lips and gurgled as blood filled his throat and mouth.

She heard a door blast open and saw Triss and a couple other mages run in. Revynah exchanged a final glance with Cahir, and she joined her comrades across the room, hoping that next time they would see each other, he would be on her side again. She ran to Triss to help her with the poor Gerhart, who was having a heart attack and she watched Triss walk through the opening left by the door. She had no idea what had happened prior to her joining this fight but she was confused upon hearing Istredd call some of their peers “traitors”. Only when she got out of the fights did she feel this wave of exhaustion wash over her and she pulled the diadem off her head, stuffing it in a pocket in her dress. For but an instant, she felt her head spin a little but she got a hold of herself as she joined the others.

“Don’t waste your chaos.” Gerhart was slumped against the wall, his hand over his heart. He shook his head, begging Triss to leave him there.

“You’re going to be fine, I promise.”

“It’s too late.” Revynah and Triss stood up, turning to Tissaia, whose face was covered in soot.

“No, it isn’t. We’ll keep on fighting—” She gasped when an arrow hit her, and she lost her footing. Revynah and Istredd caught her. He called out to Tissaia and the latter quietly walked away, leaving a trail of blood on the wall with her hand. She let out a yell as Istredd pulled out the arrow and Revynah placed her hands over the bleeding wounds to heal her.

“If they’re inside, if they’re sacking the whole place…”

“The book.”

“What book?” Revynah's eyes flickered from one to the other, not having a clue what they were talking about. She had to catch up on a lot of things.

“The book of Monoliths. It contains arcane knowledge about travel through time and space. Tissaia hid it, so Vilgefortz will know if he orchestrated this whole thing.”

“I’ll be okay, go. But don’t let it get into the wrong hands.”

“I need you to be okay. I need you.” They pressed their foreheads against each other’s, and he stood up, asking Revynah to help her. The fight was still raging in the chamber when thunder rumbled. The two sorceresses looked at each other, knowing what this meant. Tissaia had gone to summon Alzur’s thunder, a spell of last resort that would strike anyone she laid eyes upon. It would also take an immense toll on her. They witnessed a rain of lighting bolts fall on people in the chamber. When it died out, Keira, Triss, Revynah and their fellow sorceresses joined forces and walked back into the battlefield, coming face to face with Franscesca, Fringilla and the Scoiat’el.

“Stand back or die.” Yennefer came running from behind the mages. Francesca shriked, throwing a blast of energy at her but she stopped it with a mere wave of her hand.

“You will not take what is ours.”

“You’re outnumbered. You have no choice.”

“Go to hell, you fucking mongrels!” Everyone was caught on the hop when Stregobord’s voice growled in the back of the room. He teleported up to the mages, arms spread out with flames coming out of the palms of his hands. He glanced at Yennefer over his shoulder. “Go. I’ll buy you some time. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

“Yennefer.” Revynah called her name as the latter turned to her peers. “Where’s Geralt?”

“I left him with Ciri. Find him.” She let out a heavy breath, holding Triss and Revynah’s arms. They nodded urgently and ran out of the chamber.

Yennefer took another direction, and the two red heads found a way out of the academy. It was impossible to leave through the entrance Revynah took as it was right behind their enemies, and since they had no idea where to go to find Geralt, they went around the whole school. For now, their only plan was to go back to her horse, which she left by the cliff, hoping her mare would still be there. She had magically bounded the animal to her so they would be each other’s exclusive mount and rider and she couldn’t risk getting stolen so there were high chances that the horse would still be there. Revynah grabbed Triss’ hand and teleported the two of them off the island of Thanedd and back onto the plain. She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled as her diadem buzzed with magic in her pocket. They ran into the dead body of an elf in leather gear. She was no tracker, but she could tell the grass was trampled the same way it gets when a bunch of horses run around. She kneeled next to the body, putting the diadem back on her head, and hovered her hand over the wounds. His clothes and skin were cut in multiple places. Her diadem could let her know any ailment someone suffered from or the nature of any wound. Someone attacked this elf with a sword, but he was clearly not alone. What happened here really puzzled her but she couldn’t get anymore information out of just one corpse so she stood up, frowning and saw Triss, from the corner of her eyes, standing by her mare in the distance. She was calling to Revynah, waving her hand in the air, urging her to come. She left the dead elf and ran to her friend when the tower of Aretuza exploded and collapsed in on itself, sartling the two women. Triss then pointed to the agitated water in the bay, and she squinted her eyes. When she saw Geralt, she didn’t even wait for Triss, she got a hold of her horse’s reins and teleported herself on the beach. As she approached where Geralt was floating and the water got to her thighs as she crouched down and slid her arm in the water, grabbing his large shoulders to lift him out of the water. With her free hand, she pushed a strand of hair stuck to his temple out of his face. Triss quickly joined her.

The wind was blowing furiously in her hair, but she didn’t care about it, or the cold. She had her brother right there in her arms after searching for him for the past few years. She let out a cry and a couple tears ran down her face. It had been an entire century since they last saw each other and he was the exact white-haired man she was seeing every now and then in her dreams, and whose face she could never see clearly. He had changed so drastically. His brown curls and sweet eyes were gone. When he half-opened his eyes, grunting, she saw that they had changed into an unnatural yellow color. Her heart ached for all that he must have been through, and she would never be able to apologize enough. His whole face was covered in cuts and wounds and without a second glance, she could feel every single of his injuries. His spine and multiple ribs were shattered and one of his legs was broken. For some reason, she could feel all of his pain. He was dying and she started feeling sick, but she knew that with her extended powers, she would be able to heal her brother. She was taken out of her contemplation when she heard him groan and open his eyes, and looked at her, weakly. He was completely out of it but still called out to her, calling her with their mother’s name, and a pleading tone, as though he was again this little boy left alone in the forest and calling for his mother.

“We’ll take him to safety.” Triss put a hand on her back, and they nodded to each other as she repeated her reassuring words to the witcher. Before calling her horse to them so they could leave, Revynah cast a sleeping spell on her brother so he could feel no pain for a time. She let Triss take care of their destination and she brought them to forest of Brokilon. When she spoke of healing her brother herself, Triss was very much against it saying it would drain Revynah of all her energy and chaos, maybe killing her but it was because she didn’t understand how much more power her diadem granted her and she left while the dryads took the white wolf into their care. With her extensive knowledge of his condition, Revynah had told them and were bending over backwards to try and do what they could. Their queen had a bed m       ade for him and had her people fetch water and cloth. He was lying in the middle of the leaves, his breathing labored, not moving a finger. Revynah tried to let the people of brokilon help him but if it came down to it, she would dig into her stone’s power. Standing a few feet away, she watched them, all kneeled around him, speaking elven. An archer with dark hair bent over him, looking around, thinking as she sniffed. She straightened up, turning to her queen, whose gaze then fell upon the sorceress observing them anxiously.

“He’s dying. You were right, coch llwynog.” The queen addressed her, calling her with a nickname she understood to mean quite literally “red fox” and before she could respond, Geralt’s voice rose, speaking in elven, his eyes closed.

“Don’t… waste your time… on me.”

“It is not a wast, Gwynbleidd.” The dryads’ queen spoke in common speech, calling him as he was commonly known all throughout the continent, White wolf. She held up a golden crest, encrusted with colorful gems. He opened his eyes slightly and looked at what she was showing him. Revynah wanted to go to his side, but she was frozen in place, fearing he wouldn’t like to see her. “Your friend the sorceress left this for you. She said to tell you, “Something out there waits for you.”.” He wheezed, closing his eyes again. “Cirilla was once our guest as well. She found her way to you?”

“She did. But I lost her.” He gulped with difficulty, getting quiet again. The dryads then carried him into a hut and laid on a bed. Revynah finally stepped in and concocted a potion. He was conscious a moment prior, she could have spoken to him, but it was as though she was still too scared to reveal himself to him, fearing he would resent her so much so he would push her away the moment he would see her. She wasn’t sure what her healing powers would do to him, or herself, and she concocted some potions beforehand to revitalize her own forces and help her brother get through the pain of basically putting back together his bones. She had started to feel somewhat of a migraine and promptly took off her diadem, taking a deep breath before continuing. The dryads had provided her with the components to make what she needed and while she was grinding herbs and leaves with a pestle in a wooden mortar. Geralt, still asleep, sometimes let out groans and winced in pain and she hurried. She picked one and slid her hand beneath her brother’s head.

“Drink up. I’m going to heal you, okay?” She said softly as she brought the vial to his lips. He sighed heavily and swallowed harshly. As she put it back on the table behind her, she turned back to him, and Geralt’s eyes were set on her. She held his gaze, regret and guilt washing over her entire face. Despite the pain he was in, she could see in his eyes that looking at her brought him back hundred of years in the past. He called her name quietly and winced as he cleared his throat. She stretched out her hand to grab her diadem and put it back, the stone resting right in the middle of her forehead and she drank one of her potions. She took a glance at him, head to toe, assessing his state again and it was just as bad as when they got him out of the water that same morning. Putting her hands over his torso, she spoke elder speech, in a whisper, and closed her eyes, focusing. She heard Geralt groaning through his gritted teeth, trying to bear with the pain and she frowned in worry, but she had to continue.

The notion of time slipped away, and she had no idea how long this whole ordeal took, but it most likely took many hours. All she could think of were the words of the healing spell and how her head felt lighter and lighter, her ears buzzing, deafened by the deep growls, and yelling of her brother. Her voice became less poised, and she felt her hands shaking. When silence fell over the hut again, she opened her eyes. Geralt’s chest was heaving with difficulty as he wheezed. Revynah looked at him, there was still blood on his limbs and face, but it looked like the open wounds had closed. Her diadem also let her know that his bones had been fixed. Trying to get up turned out to be the worst idea she could have had, and she collapsed to the ground. She now understood Anika’s warning when she gave her this magical item. She had it for just a few days and she had already used it almost as much as her mother did in an entire lifetime. She tapped into it so badly in order to heal her brother, she drained her energy. This was just the consequence of her own actions, showing her, she needed to use this item with parsimony and learn to use it instead of entirely relying on it like she just did. Though it took a toll on her, it allowed her to heal her brother without being unsure whether it had worked. The diadem let her feel and know everything about his affliction and general condition without thinking about it. What just happened was a warning for her not to take the easy way every time. The sorceress leaned on her hands but as she put pressure on them, she collapsed again, and had trouble keeping her eyes open, but she felt someone grab her arms and help her up. She supported herself on the man’s forearms as she got on her feet.

“Jaskier.” She came face to face with the bard. He pulled out a cloth and wiped her upper lip. Looking down, she saw the blood-stained tissue and thanked him before pulling the diadem off her head and motioning for him to give her the potion she pointed to. She drank it and sat at the table with a heavy sigh while he sat by his companion’s bed. Geralt was healed but not out of the woods just yet and unconscious for the time being so Jaskier faced the witch. The white wolf was strong, but he needed rest before being able to swing a sword as swiftly as he used too but she trusted it wouldn’t take much time for him to recover. “We meet again, bard.”

“So we do, Revynah of Nowhere.” She chuckled at the title, remembering that is how he nicknamed her when they met at the tavern, over a year ago. His sassiness than faded, replaced with concern for her as he observed every inch of her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” She massaged her eyes, putting down the empty vial after pouring it down her throat. “You’ll have to wait until he wakes up. He’s knocked out for now… and probably for the rest of the week.”

“What happened? Did you— did you heal him?” He looked at Geralt over his shoulder.

“Yes. I’m not sure he’ll be able to walk or fight right away but he’s not dying anymore.” Her worried frown came back above her emerald eyes as she followed the bard’s gaze. He saw the way she looked at her brother.

“I came straight from Thanedd when I heard he was here. Some of my old sandpiper routes. I’m glad you were with him, and I’m sure he is too.” She glanced at him but wasn’t as convinced of this as the strong nods he gave her, trying to make her feel better. She wasn’t sure saving her brother’s life would change his possible resentment for her. One thing she had heard of the man he became was that he didn’t like to have help imposed on him, and that’s kind of how she felt about what she just did. She feared he would be even angrier if he learned that she was ready to die to help him.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” She sighed, taking back the diadem from the table and put in her pocket while motioning for Jaskier to come outside with her. He rushed to her, giving her his arm for support; They had to wait for Geralt to wake up anyway and she had to prepare herself for when she would come face to face with him, after all this time. She hoped he could forgive her and hiding all that she did during her time under Emhyr would maybe make it easier. She didn’t like to talk about all this anyway and they hadn’t seen each other in so long, it was certainly not the first thing she wanted him to hear about his sister, how she rampaged through Niflgaard, killing dozens – if not hundreds –  and then worked for the emperor. As they walked through the trees, heading for where she tied her horse, getting a little further from all the dryads, Revynah put a friendly hand on his shoulder. She wasn’t exactly tactile, but she wanted to show her compassion. He seemed preoccupied too. “How have you been since we last saw each other? It’s been a while.”

“Well, after we met at the tavern, I told Geralt about you. I had run into him at a waterfall, well, he found me, but anyway. When I spoke your name, I— I thought he was going to punch me in the face.” He was moving his hands around, raising his eyebrows as he spoke. His face was so expressive when he recounted things.

“What did he say?”

“He said, and I quote “Where did you see her, Jaskier?”.” He took on a deep growling voice when impersonating Geralt and that made her smile amusedly. “So I told him about our meeting at the tavern, told him you were looking for him. You know him, he’s about as expressive as a pincushion. We did try to look for you though. We went to Cintra but there were… tensions between Geralt and Yen, so we couldn’t get in. Were you and Cahir there?”

“Yes.” She clenched her jaw, petting her mare’s mane, as she remembered how Cahir let the guards drag her away and throw her into a cell, prior to an entire year of torture and starvation. Her response was pretty dry, and she saw him, from the corner of her eyes, mouth an exaggerated “okay” before pursuing. “I was in Cintra for a whole year after that.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but in the dungeons.” He was a little taken aback, and it quickly got to him that it meant she had been arrested upon setting foot in the city. He looked at Revynah as his face dropped. “It was worse than I expected. Too cold and humid, too much—” She cut herself off, sensing that she was letting her anger and bitterness get the better of her and she didn’t like how sarcastic she was being about her emprisonment and torture.

“Too much what?” He asked quietly. She turned her head to him.

“Too much blood for my taste.” He stared at her in shock, kind of frozen in place except for his eyes blinking every now and then. If she talked about blood, he could only guess that most of it had been hers.

“Were you— were you tortured? Revynah, I— I’m so, so sorry…” His eyes grew watery, but no tears fell as he tried to keep his composure before a woman he knew was about as emotional as her brother, when in front of others at least. She shook her head.

“It is not your fault, Jaskier. No one’s fault but Nilfgaard’s.” She lied, silencing the names of Cahir and Fringilla, who she blamed for her severe mistreatment. She quickly changed the subject. “Do you have any news from Yennefer?”

“Yennefer’s fine. She’s safe.”

“What about this girl I heard my brother has grown so protective of? Ciri?”

“Ciri— she’s— uh… She’s missing.” He admitted, his lips quivering under the emotion this news brought him. “Yennefer’s searching for her, but Nilfgaard, they… There’s this village… outside Roggeveen, and… they razed it… to the ground. I tried to find survivors, but… they were willing to kill everyone to find her.” He slipped his hand in the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a piece of paper, grabbing her hand and putting it between her fingers. “Apparently, it worked. The emperor announced the celebration. She’s on her way to Niflgaard.”

“Can’t believe I’m going to have to go back there.” She said with a heavy sigh, a knot in her throat. She hadn’t stepped foot in the south ever since her deflection but if they had to go there to help Geralt’s kid, she would. She would help him in whatever endeavors they got themselves in. When she went to move away from her mare, she lost her balance, collapsing one more time and she heard leaves getting trampled upon and crushed around her, her vision was blurry, but she saw Jaskier rushing to her and trying to talk to her. Everything then went dark, and when she opened her eyes, coming back to her senses, she sat up and looked around her. She was in a hut. She heard Jaskier and the queen of the dryad speaking outside. They stopped by the entrance and entered. Jaskier walked towards her and handed her some water.

“How are you feeling?” He enquired.

“Better. Thank you. Tell me, Jaskier, how long did I sleep?”

He exchanged a glance with the queen, “almost three days.”

“Geralt—” She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and as she was about to stand up and rush outside, Jaskier grabbed her hand, stopping her.

“He’s still unconscious.”

“But fully recovered, thanks to you, coch llwynog. He should wake up soon too.” The dryad held something in her hand and Revynah’s gaze was drawn to it as she felt its magic, and within a second, she recognized it as being her diadem’s magic. “You could have lost your life to this stone. It is of immense power, but also immensely demanding.”

“I know that.”

“Then you must know that, even though you are just as immensely powerful of a mage, the next time you do this, you will die. It would be a great loss.” She put down the diadem on a table installed by the bed and left. Someone else, a young archer that Revynah had seen by the queen’s side when they arrived, came in.

“He’s awake.” Jaskier and Revynah looked at each other and hoped on their feet, speed walking towards Geralt’s tent, but quickly, Revynah slowed down her pace and stopped by the entrance, motioning for Jaskier to go without her. Geralt was asking him about Ciri, wheezing but not having to do many efforts to speak.

“Why are you standing there?” The archer appeared behind her, holding some grouse in her hand. Her question seemingly didn’t expect an actual answer as she walked past her and joined the two men inside. The hut was made of branches holding each other in place, with more or less wide holes, through which Revynah peered, without making herself known. “You should be able to get on your feet now, witcher. A few days ago, you were dying, refusing our help, and look at you now, a few cuts and bruises still but your friend saved you. She’s very powerful but it almost cost her her life.”

He grunted, sitting up, “My friend?” The way she worded it seemed to get him confused as he didn’t see Revynah as a friend, but no one here knew of the true nature of their relationship, so he probably wondered if it was the red head he saw, or if Yennefer had come around Brokilon while he rested, or maybe even Triss.

“Yes, one of the two red heads that brought you here earlier this week. Everyday you were mumbling her name in your sleep. Revy—”

“Revynah.” He turned his head to Jaskier. “Where is she?”

“Oh, oh, she woke up. She’s okay. Yeah, she, uh, she was in a coma too, but now she’s awake, she—” He turned around to look out the holes in the hut, but he couldn’t see Revynah anywhere. Though the leg that had been broken was healed, it was still quite stiff and his left leg in a brace put there by the dryads after Revynah performed her miracle. He leaned on a crutch and walked as fast as possible out of the hut, followed by Jaskier. They found the mage petting her horse in silence. Geralt briefly stopped in his tracks, staring at his sister in the distance, and approached. When a branch loudly cracked under his foot, she froze. It took her a second to fully turn around and face him. There was some apprehension in her eyes as she met his gaze, but all she saw on his face was the look of disbelief and relief at the sight of such a familiar face. 

“Geralt.” She spoke softly. They looked at each other for a moment before she dared take a few steps in his direction, and so did he, wrapping his strong arms around her, holding her tightly as if to make sure she was real and actually there with him.

“I thought I dreamt you. I thought I was hallucinating from the pain.” He said in her ear with his naturally growling voice, but softer, in a whisper.

“Oh, my brother—” She let out a stifled cry, her eyes getting watery, as she put her hands around his face, stroking his white hair and caressing his face carefully as if she feared he would crumble under her touch, like in her dreams, “my baby brother.”

“When Jaskier told me you met, I started looking for you too. Where were you all this time?”

She stepped away, and he watched her with this peculiar stillness, his yellow eyes staring at her, glossy from the tears that had filled it. Those who spread the rumor that witchers were incapable of emotions couldn’t be more wrong. “The day mother sent you to fetch water… I didn’t understand why she was leaving without you.            I wanted to go back to you, but she forbade me. I didn’t know that she had left you there for the witchers to find–  I could’t imagine. But she had plans for me too. She brought me to Aretuza, promised she would come back, because I was so reluctant to stay, but never did, of course. I spent… I don’t remember, maybe a little over a decade there. I hated every second of it. I hated our mother for separating us and leaving me in this place. So, when graduation neared and I found out what was to be done to me, I fled. I’m not sure how I managed but I did.” She shrugged “I also managed to lead a regular life for a while, even had a son.”

“You had a son?”

“Yes.” A sad smile dawned on her face but soon faded.  “and that’s when I realised I fooled myself thinking the council had lost my track. They had always been watching me from afar because I was a loose cannon – I was a huge threat to their order. They had my whole family killed. I lost everything – again. That’s when I ended up going south. Those mages couldn’t possibly get me there, and they really lost my track for many decades after that. But the political situation in Nilfgaard was unstable. I got imprisoned for being a sorceress, until Emhyr came to power. He freed us, making us work for him. One of Yennefer’s peers, Fringila, was the official mage at his court, and he made me do the dirty work for him. The council had no idea I was on his side, and that benefited him. He never questioned me on my past… I never questioned him… I didn’t have anything else to lose. I had nothing left. He would send me to the four corners of the continent to spy and kill whoever he told me to spy on or kill. But I stopped blindly following Emhyr when I heard of a witcher named Geralt. For a century I thought you were dead, so I couldn’t believe it was really you. I heard about you when you got nicknamed the Butcher of Blaviken. You made quite some noise in the Northern realms. Then, everytime I was being sent on a mission by Emhyr, I would spend most of my time trying to find you. It was only during the Battle of Sodden that I left Nilfgardian ranks for good.”

“You defected. Where did you go?”

“I went to Cintra.” She sighed, shaking her head as she remembered that night on the boat, when Jaskier had vanished from the upper deck, “I should have followed Yennefer off that boat instead and we would have been reunited sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Why love makes us do anything?” She scoffed, looking at her brother, her chin high but with shame and guilt in her eyes. “I followed Cahir to Cintra. I was caught and thrown in a cell the moment I stepped foot in the courtyard. Emhyr had me tortured and starved – for a whole year. Never saw so much of my own blood.” Nodding, she shot up her eyebrows, pinching her lips briefly. “But I also managed to escape, and that was not so long ago, really. Some of the other prisoners died so Fringilla and I, we sneaked into the body bags and we were thrown in the forest like trash. Fringilla too off,  didn’… not directly.”

“Why not?”

“Prisoners died every day. I waited, and took my revenge on the guards. I couldn’t kill Emhyr so they paid the price of my anger. There was a fire near the place where they dumped the corpses, so I tapped into it, used fire magic, and burned down the whole fucking forest around Cintra to send a message to Emhyr – that I would come back for him. I escaped the flames and went to Annika.” She forgot the part where she toyed with the guards, mentally torturing them and gutting them, sending one back to Cintra holding his own innards in his hand.

“I went to her too. I’d found a girl who had been made to believe that she was Ciri, with magic.”

“I know. She told me that I missed you by a few hours. She took care of me, healed my wounds and—and told me about our mother… how she died. I wish I could have seen her again, just once.” Her eyes got watery again and she wiped a tear, her lips quivered. She took a shaky breath. Geralt went on to tell her how he briefly saw their mother again before finding Ciri during the battle of sodden, how he had always tried to please her and she couldn’t say anything but agree – she always tried to please their mother too, until she abandoned them. Just like Annika told her, they were the two sides of the same coin. They felt the same regarding their mother and dealt with the same things, they had always led parallel lives even while being kept apart, and all they had ever needed was to find each other again to deal with it together, because no one else would ever understand them as well as each other.

Eventually, the conversation went back to Ciri, and it was clear – and understandable – that Geralt was eager to go find his daughter. He looked at his sister, and Jaskier, still standing nearby, “Pack up. We leave in the afternoon.”

“Good, yeah. Uh, might I suggest we wait until your leg pus stops visibly oozing first?” As Geralt walked away, still leaning on his crutch, the dark-haired archer came around, stopping at Jaskier’s side. The girl frowned, glaring at Geralt.

“Your bones are healed but you’re in no shape to walk through the forest, much less the Continent! Can you even hold the damn sword?” He ignored her and she pointed at Jaskier and Revynah in incomprehension, “Aren’t either of you gonna stop him?”

“I’ve been telling him for months he needs to thing about himself, not just Ciri. But I was wrong. Protecting her, protecting his family, it’s who he is. I’d have to kill him to stop him. And even in this sorry-ass state, I’m pretty sure he could snap me like a toothpick, so no. I’m not gonna stop him. If he needs my help, he has it.” As he finished his sentence, he followed in Geralt’s footsteps and Revynah went after them. She sighed. She felt she could convince Geralt to slow down. In the blink of an eye, she appeared before him.

“You haven’t stood or walked in three days. Your bones are back in place, but you still need time.” He looked up at her, his hair falling to the side of his face. He was desperate to go find the girl and she understood. She nodded to herself, thinking and stepped away. When a sword came flying in his face, he grunted, letting go of his crutch and he grabbed it in extremis before it cut his face up some more. He made his way to her as she had a thick branch levitate in front of her and she effortlessly countered his moves, hitting his side every now and then, “you’d be dead. Again.”

They spent a few hours training like this, to get Geralt moving again and that turned out to be exactly what his body needed after days of immobility and rest. As time went on, he regained most of his reflexes and swiftness. Revynah nodded, her hands behind her back and the branch dropped to the ground as she relieved it of her control, “Your body has recovered. We leave tomorrow morning.”

He grabbed her arm as she walked past him, “Everyday that I spend here is another that Ciri’s in danger.”

“Look.” Revynah pointed at the sky, “it’ll be dark soon. We leave in the morning, don’t worry, brother.” She approached the archer, “Did he eat anything the past three days?”

“Sometimes he would wake up, groaning in pain, so we gave him the potions you brewed because the waters didn’t work on him, but he was never awake enough to eat anything.”

“Could you get him some meat, please?”

“I hunted a grouse this morning.”

“I don’t want it.” Geralt declared, loud and clear, behind her.

“Yes, you do.” Revynah replied as she walked away with the young woman. She left the two men together and went on to prepare something to eat. The girl was a skilled hunter. The grouse she had brought was big enough for the three of them. While the meat boiled in a cauldron of water above a fire, Revynah went back to her mare, smiling tenderly at the white beast, telling her some nice words in Nilfgaardian. It wasn’t even her mother tongue, but she had spent so much time in the south, it was looked as though she had become Nilfgaardian, as much by her dark clothes as by her manners and her lack of an accent when speaking the language.

“You sound like a native.” She looked over her shoulder and saw Geralt standing behind her.

“Well, whether I like it or not, Nilfgaard was my home for longer than anywhere in the North.” She watched him from the corner of her eyes as she took a closer look at the fox’s pelt resting on her mare’s rump. “A hunting token.”

“You hunt?’

“No.” She admitted, shrugging. “The fox was dying, but such a beautiful animal. I put an end to its misery and skinned him. It’s like a lucky charm too.” Of course, she kept quiet on the fact that she often wore it to make herself more intimidating and that when she skinned it, she put it on immidietaly, the blood dripping all over her. When that night she stood by the fire and tortured the guards, this only confirmed the merit of her nickname Aguara. But all that, including her murderous past, she didn’t want Geralt to know. Even though she was his sister, if he thought she could be a danger to Ciri, he wouldn’t let her come with him, at least that’s what she feared. Maybe he wouldn’t judge her, but in any case, she didn’t want to tell him about all this. They left her horse’s side and went to eat by the fire as night fell on Brokilon. Revynah asked Jaskier to sing some of his songs and she sang along, sharing childhood memories with Geralt, reminiscing the good old days before they all went to bed in their huts.

After not dreaming at all for days, this time around, she couldn’t sleep soundly. Her night was perturbed by flashes of her memories she had of Cahir. Intimate moments they had spent together, embracing him, kissing him, teasing him as she stepped out of the bath and walked naked in front of him while he stood there in his armour and probably fought with himself not to look away from her eyes, him shouting her name as she ran from the battlefield at Sodden, or staring at her as she was dragged away by guards in Cintra. Those memories ended up merging together, the voices got louder and louder, overlapping with each other, turning into a hubbub. A burning sensation spread throughout her back, as if her body caught on fire and an unbearable pain followed. Her skin was tearing as if her scars were reopening waking her up, panting. She anxiously patted her back, but her skin was intact. The sunshine was piercing through the hut’s branches. She took deep breaths and calmed down before getting up and putting all her potions into a small leather pouch. She stared at the diadem as she held it in her hand and threw it in the bag as well. She was going to use it carefully now.

It was time to leave Brokilon once and for all. She grabbed another pouch in which she had a bunch of herbs. Geralt wanted to train again this morning, before leaving. He made an elixir to sharpen his senses, and she brought him herbs and watched him busy himself with curshing leaves and herbs and mixing it all together. They went back to the same place where he practiced with Revynah the previous day, setting his sword on a stone before him, giving the vial a strong shake before opening it up and gulping it down. Revynah stood among the trees, her hands behind her back, and two long spears that were landed to them by the dryads, lying on the ground. He slowly picked up his sword, looking at his sister as he turned around. She put tensions in her fingers, twitching them left and right, while holding her wrist with her free hand and the spears flew off the ground. Her eyes darting around, following his every move as he countered her attacks swiftly. He split one of the spears in half with his blade and Revynah let the two pieces fall, surprising Geralt as she appeared in front of him after one of his twirls, holding the spear in her hands and fighting him up close. He put his sword up to her neck and she lifted her head with a smirk. An arrow came flying by his ear and the two siblings looked to the side. The dark-haired hunter was standing there, looking at them.

“You’d be dead now.”

“Hmm.” He groaned, turning his back to her. “We’re leaving.” Jaskier picked up his lute and he and Revynah whistled for her horse as she followed the two men. She just wouldn’t leave her dear White Rose behind. After leaving Brokilon and walking through the forest for a couple hours, they ran into a battalion of the emperor’s soldiers. Other people were waiting in line as soldiers asked them to pay in exchange for passage. Revynah looked around at the brown carriages lined up and sighed in relief. There were no wanted posters plastered everywhere but it comforted her in the fact that the emperor didn’t want everyone to know that he had lost track of such a high-profile prisoner. He felt threatened by the fact that she was roaming around the continent, and even more so if she had found her brother. They were the two people who threatened his claim to Ciri, and his own life. But there was no warrant out for her arrest because he knew that there was nothing, he could do about her. If she wanted to exterminate every Nilfgaardian soldier she encountered, she would. She was a powerful sorceress, and his soldiers would all die if they tried to fight her.

She saluted the fact that he was basically telling her to come find him if she wanted. He was trying to make her think he didn’t view her as a threat, but she spent enough time working for him to know that he did fear her, especially after the message she sent. Fire magic was forbidden, and he knew she was the one who destroyed the entire forest around Cintra. This message showed him she didn’t give a damn about rules. If she wanted to use forbidden magic, she would.

“You’ll need further identification. Empty your pocket.” A soldier urged two passerbys. The trio had stopped in their tracks, watching the scene.

“We’ll never get to Ciri if we can’t get past.” Jaskier said quietly. “There’s got to be another way round.”

“Not for days.” Without looking at his sister, he grabbed her wrist, feeling her arm tensing up as she opened her hand, spreading out her fingers. “Don’t.”

“You didn’t want me to open a portal. Now you don’t want me to kill those soldiers. Geralt, if they recognize me, it’ll turn into a bloodbath anyway.” She finished her sentence into a mumble under her breath as the two people in front of them were let through and Jaskier walked forward, talking to the soldier with a warm hello and a big smile.

“Papers.”

“We lost them.” Revynah let them do the talking while she stood behind Geralt, trying to keep a low profile. He didn’t want to make a mess, and she respected that, but she knew it wouldn’t work for long. The two other soldiers were giving her glances and one of them walked around a carriage while their commander spoke with Jaskier and Geralt. The bard was trying to buy their way through and the Nilfgaardian seemed curious, but he rose his hand in Jaskier’s face to stop him from talking as one of his men came back to him with a rolled paper in his hand. The next glances she got confirmed they knew who she was, and it was about to go south.

“Lady, come forward.” She used her horse as distraction, sending her mare galloping past the knights. She threw the knights off their feet with a simple spell, using the air around her and pulled their swords out of their sheaths as they stood up. One of them got his nose broken by Geralt while she made the blades dance around, cutting up the faces and necks of the soldiers.

“Revynah.” Geralt’s voice calling her name made her realize she was toying with her preys, slitting their throats with their own weapons. Their bodies dropped heavily to the ground. A dozen more soldiers came at them. Geralt had grabbed a hammer and Jaskier threw his sword at him, and with Revynah, he killed every last one of them, blood splattering from their necks and covering the dirt.  A few arrows flew over the siblings’ heads and the young archer appeared among the trees. She came to talk to Jaskier and Geralt while Revynah, her face sprinkeled with drops of blood, forced a soldier on his feet, pushing him against a wagon, she held a sword up to his throat.

“Who am I? Say it, you scum!” She shouted through gritted teeth.

“Your name—” He whimpered as she slammed him into the wagon, pressing the blade on his skin. “Your name’s Revynah… you were a sorceress for the Emperor, and now you’re a fugitive.”

“That’s all he told his men. I see.” She looked down for a second, thinking. He really didn’t tell any of his soldiers that she was the Aguara. He didn’t say anything more than that she was a mage at his court. “I already sent a message to Emhyr, but I’ll send another one. Tell that fucker that I will not rest until I have his head.”

“And tell him,” She glanced over her shoulder as she heard Geralt’s voice. He was standing right next to her, “that no matter his armies, I will free Ciri. Understand?” The knight groaned and nodded. He had to call Revynah’s name again to make her let go of the man. It was as if she needed to do to him what she did to those other guards, gut him and sent him on his way but she stepped back and let him slide against the carriage and fall on the ground. Geralt didn’t say anything. He didn’t make any comment on the savagery she showed and only gave her shoulder a good, comforting squeeze. She looked at him, surprised that he wasn’t upset. He didn’t know what was going on with her, but he didn’t judge her.

[To be continued…]  

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Published (12/26/2024) by Andrea

[blueallihc]

I love their "sibling" relationship so much