#vattier de rideaux

[paintreedrawings]

Что, если Роше как темерский шпион типо Штирлиц в Нильфгаарде?

Эти вопросы мне нравятся, но я отвечу одним постом сразу на оба. Да, я с удовольствием посмотрел бы на такую напряжённую драму, где Роше надо годами притворяться, чтобы не выдать себя. Но как по мне, в этом сюжете есть один ма-аленький нюанс:

[auntmote]

A little fantasy about Vattier's visit to the van Moorlehem manor

Vattier: "Don't try to threaten me, Philippe. I swear, I'll..." Philippe: "Great shot, de Rideaux! And now it's my turn"

[queenofyumcha]

excerpt of 'take heart, beloved'

Ship of this excerpt - Vattier de Rideaux/Emhyr

Another day, another betrayal. White hot fury burns in his stomach and he throws his papers to the desk in disgust.

Emhyr is not a man who allows himself such weakness. So he claws back control, he does not rage, he does not kick and flail and scream, for he is not a child who cannot control his anger. Yet his anger burns cold and it burns for vengeance. His frustrated grip on the quill tightens till he feels ink drip down his palm, smearing black across the scattered documents.

The quiet cough startles him more than he would admit, Emhyr hurriedly smoothing his expression to calm blankness and motioning for his spymaster to leave the open doorway.

“Ah, Vattier. I don’t suppose you could pretend to have not witnessed any of that?”

“Witnessed what, your Majesty?"

As tired as he is, Emhyr cannot help a chuckle. The other man’s presence is a soothing balm to his senses, a quiet moment of calm in the whirling maelstrom that the court can be. Vattier rarely raises his voice above a speaking level, keeping his tone light and impartial. 

“I do hope you’re here to bring me good news, Vattier.”

“I’m afraid that’s hardly what you employ me for, your Majesty.”

Another plot, another assassin to try their luck. The common squabble between lower houses, scrabbling on their knees for an extra scrap of power, another gold coin to line their pockets, a title just a little better than their neighbours- all that fight for a bounty that will be lost to another greater house the next day when court resumes. The rising costs of grain, the rumoured threat of pestilence.

“Enough of that." Emhyr gestures to the reports Vattier has brought him, every part of him wishing to drown the papers in ink until nothing can be made out.

Emhyr gestures between them. "Enough of this. Majesty this, majesty that. When we are alone- Emhyr will suffice.”

“That- would not be abiding by protocol… sire.”

A scoff, far too honest and far too bitter for his liking, escapes. “I write and rewrite protocol as I please, Vattier. And it pleases me to have you address me by my name.”

“Understood- Emhyr.”

How interesting. Vattier has flushed a little, excited? Honoured, perhaps, at this bending of the rules for him, at this faux intimacy Emhyr has allowed.

“It’s late. I won’t keep you from your rest any longer, your Majesty- ah, Emhyr.”

The other man clears his throat and he clearly wishes to beat a hasty retreat to adjust to how Emhyr has adjusted their social rules. Pity that Emhyr won't allow him that respite. His spymaster, off-kilter... How entertaining.

“And what if I wanted you to?”

Emhyr smiles, slow, languid and looks up at him through lowered eyelashes. It’s a delicate balancing act between solicitousness and reservedness, not wanting to appear too eager unless he gives the other man too much power- the choice to deny Emhyr simply because he wants this too much. 

“If I desired your company?”

Vattier looks taken aback, though not offended, but all the same, for a moment Emhyr feels a swooping feeling in his stomach, not dissimilar to missing a step on the stairs. He watches Vattier intently as the other man takes his time to answer, tracing the binding of the reports he holds absentmindedly as he thinks.

“If you desired me in any capacity, I would be flattered.”

Vattier’s words are cautious, careful not to overextend his interest in case he has misread the situation, misread Emhyr’s interest, or misread Emhyr’s intentions.

A smile curves his lips. This spymaster of his is no fool.

A glass of wine is poured. And another. 

Tonight, Emhyr does not sleep alone.

The other man touches him as though he were crafted from spun glass, as though he would shatter into pieces with one careless motion.

Emhyr is flattered and irritated in equal measure. He wants to be touched and to touch in return. He wants to forget, for just one night, the pieces of the Empire scattered across his desk.

He wants Vattier to kiss him, to leave bruises upon his skin so he can remember come morning, he is a man of flesh and blood, not an imperial construct that bleeds ink upon parchment, a chessboard enchanted to keep moving, unhindered by human fatigue, by mortal needs. 

He wanted power. He has it. He had not known what a struggle it would be to keep it.

Vattier fumbles with the fastening of his breeches, all of sudden clumsy and abashed under Emhyr’s gaze, the look of the older man’s flustered face bringing a bubble of delighted laughter from Emhyr’s throat.

How entertaining, the idea that he could unnerve such an unflappable, composed man.

He cups Vattier’s groin, biting back a laugh at the way he freezes under Emhyr’s touch, erection straining at the fabric but too polite, too deferential to take what he wants, to move without Emhyr’s permission.

It’s amusing.

It’s also not what he wants from the older man.

“Do I really inspire such anxiety in you, my dear Vattier?”

He straddles the man, grinds down upon him and smiles angelically at the way Vattier curses at the brief contact, his hands white knuckled on the armrests to keep himself from moving, from bucking up into Emhyr's warm body. Vattier, ever a man of discipline. The other man’s face flushes red and only darkens as the distance between them shrinks until they’re chest to chest.

Emhyr coquettishly places a hand on Vattier’s chest, playing at the sweet young man far too innocent to ask for what he wants, only smiling wider when Emhyr feels his theory of what Vattier desires confirmed, the older man's heart thunderously beating a rhythm beneath his touch. It’s no longer a novelty to be wanted, but hungry desire still tastes just as sweet.

He’s a pretty, vicious thing.

The kind of young man that older men want to break apart in their hands.

A fantasy, to yield and submit beneath them, an otherwise unattainable prize to be broken in.

He leads his spymaster to the bed, allows him to kiss his neck, to pin Emhyr to the bed, Vattier's body a cage around him. Vattier is more confident now, taking as he pleases, his movements bolder and less tentative. It arouses Vattier, the knowledge of just who he has splayed out beneath him, whose legs he has wrapped around him, the power he feels in their position.

The power Emhyr allows him to feel.

How sweet, to think he has any kind of hold over Emhyr. That Emhyr doesn't control everything in this room, including the life of his spymaster.

One wrong move and Emhyr disrupts Vattier's pretty little fantasy. One wrong move and Vattier risks the executioner's axe.

Vattier's motions are hurried, eager at the thought of possessing him, of conquering him in this way- aroused at the thought of Emhyr supplicant and pliant beneath him. How... predictable. Emhyr finds himself disappointed without understanding why.

He wants to ruin Emhyr, in all the best ways.

If Emhyr was a weaker man- perhaps he’d allow him to.

[ormakona]

Vattier de Rideaux, Viscount of Eiddon, was the head of military intelligence for Emperor Emhyr var Emreis.

[bittersweetbark]

State of Mind

pics of Geralt and Emhyr and Ciri are by @tigerlyla-of-metinna

And yes, it's a little bit steampunky because there is an evil apparatus involved.

[laurikarauchscat]

Hi, who's that nilfgaardian who smashed Emhyr? (Previous drawing) Any hcs?

hey!

I initially thought it should be Vattier, because I like the idea of Vattier as a sort of "master of secrets" whose loyalty is difficult to win, so Emhyr would have to resort to - alternative methods of persuasion.

(As an aside, This pairing was endeared to me by @queenofyumcha, in her fic, "the Price of Betrayal)

but halfway through the drawing I re-read @bomberqueen17's "Fit for pearls" and started seeing Peter Everston's behaviour in there as similar to that of a very controlling boyfriend (especially if you read "Quills" as well). Or more accurately, like that of the asshole stepdad that gaslights his wife into thinking it's OK that he tortures her children. So that was on my mind as well... which is why this dude has light hair (how I picture Peter)

For anyone familiar with Fit for Pearls - I am not saying that the "Peter" in my drawing would be the same as the one in the fic. That one is a twat.

[valandhirwriter]

Post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

Now, that sounds like an interesting game. :) Point is: you got to a person with a looong list of WIP Files. And a lot of my "master " WIP Files look likes this:

So I decided to use the Master file names wherever possible. Here's the current list:

Modern AU The Kite Fangs and Falsehoods Blades 2 The curse of Novigrad Zerrikania - The Dragon Call of the Blood Holdup Midsummer Carriage Shadow of change Shards The longest road The time of the wolf Valdo War without end The Wolf and the Hawk King of the Wolves or: how I learned to stop kvetching and love the Barbarians Midsummer's ghost Scars The Survivors Oubliette Arena The silent trap The Woe of Vattier de Rideaux Shadows of Spring Cintra Prologue: The Fall Bath 2 The world as we knew it Wasteland Warrior

There might be a few missing, I am notoriously chaotic with file keeping.

So: everyone who likes to ask, or get a snippet - here you go!

Tagging: @tigerlyla-of-metinna, @regis-favorite-raven, @bittersweetbark, @laurikarauchscat @she-who-drank-vodka-with-cats, @andordean, @ginstermoff, @do-androids-dream-ao3acc, to post their lists in turn, and send asks for snippets from the other's lists in turn. Everyone who wants to participate is welcome!

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

Curious about your opinion of head of intelligence Vattier de Rideaux. Is he an asset or a liability in Empress Ciris empire?

Elo Nonny,

Gee, as a nilfgaardian page I should be singing praises for Emhyr's spy corp, but I have to give the distinction of the best intelligence network to Sigisimund Djikstras' Redanian Intelligence. Vattier could learn a thing or two on how Djikstra runs his department. And one of those lessons he should take into heart is to KEEP HIS MOUTH SHUT.

Vattier de Rideaux, in my opinion, is both an asset and a liability. He is good at his job when it comes to gathering information. He is also bad at his job when it comes to keeping mum. Spilling state secrets to a courtesan named Cantarella as a way to unwind from being lectured by the emperor, without doing an extensive background check, just because she listens, doesn't talk much and gives really good oral.

No wonder Emhyr is always mad at him!

So yeah, I don't have a good opinion of him. Thankfully there are fanfics out on AO3 where he has grown more competent, serving under Empress/Queen Ciri.

[arlathhan]

Vattier de Rideaux

by

ProphetQueen

[astaldis]

Corruption

@cake-shop-rarepair-bingo

Prompt: Corruption

Challenge: Write for a pairing that has under 10 works + Write for a pairing that has no fic in English

Fandom: The Witcher (novels) Relationships:  Carthia van Canten/Vattier devRideaux  Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: No warnings apply Summary: One last time Carthia van Canten has to use her sexual talents to get what she wants from Vattier de Rideaux, the Head of Nilfgaardian Intelligence

Corruption, deception and deceit have been at the heart of almost everything she has done in the last couple of months, and she is thoroughly tired of it. Very interesting months at first, she has to admit, and worthwhile in every respect. Just a look at the elegant dressing table with the intricately carved ivory jewellery box confirms it beyond doubt. It is filled with precious rings, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, broaches and whatnot, all gifts from her rich lover. Still, she is more than glad that tonight will mark the end of her special assignment, be the very last time she will use her body to corrupt the man. When Assire var Anahid first approached her, she was not sure at all if she would be able to do it. However, seducing Vattier de Rideaux with her undeniable beauty and natural talent in sexual matters was almost laughably easy. How on the continent could the intelligent Head of Imperial Intelligence be so gullible? Even after months of her spying on the Nilfgaardian Spy Master, he is still convinced that his gorgeous, golden-haired Cantarella can barely count to three and has no understanding for nor any interest in anything he is telling her. Without fail, whenever the Viscount visits his mistress instead of going straight home to his wife after an important meeting - which happens quite frequently - he would unload all his worries and frustration onto her, tell her everything, from the Emperor's invasion plans and war strategies to the mess with the mysterious disappearance of Stefan Skellen and his entire unit. The poor trusting fool even brings his briefcase with top secret maps and documents to her place. How ridiculously simple it is for her to peruse the classified material while he is sleeping soundly after she has slowly, deftly and skilfully supplied him with sexual bliss. And all the while he has falsely assumed that his talented, young lover is not capable of reading maps or understanding any of the documents. Only because she is not older than eighteen and speaks little and seldom. The oaf probably supposes that she is not able to read at all. What a massive mistake to underestimate a beautiful woman. Men remain simple, Carthia van Canthen - also known as Cantarella - suspects.

Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47134129

[sigismund-dijkstra2269]

Hmmm.... Anyone fancy cheering me up and offing Vattier de Rideaux for me? Heard he was stalking around still....

[bittersweetbark]

Jane Eyre and Wyverns

Chapter 9 - Secrets

[laurikarauchscat]

queerbait

Emhyr had been dismayed, but not shocked, when Cirilla had spent her first days in Nilfgaard sullen and suspicious (of him in particular).

She had refused to be dressed in the current fashion of Nilfgaardian noble women, and had instead clung rebelliously to her leathers and breeches. Emhyr had accepted this state of affairs with some displeasure, and no small amount of worry. This was, afterall, his beloved heir's first introduction to her future subjects.

However, one thing he had not taken into account was the aesthetic appeal of his daughter's appearance and bearing to a particular demographic in the capital.

According to Vattier de Rideaux: given Cirilla's dress habits and apparently broody nature, the newly returned crown princess was most popular and well received amongst same sex attracted women in the Capital City.

___

Part 1 of a series

[misty-seashore]

My spread for russian Wiedźmin book.

[valandhirwriter]

I was tagged by @do-androids-dream-ao3acc, thank you, seems fun since you laughed your ass off... let's see.

Rules: go through your last 5 fics and share the first and last line. No context.

Thanks for the tag, here we go.

It had begun with nightmares, dreams plaguing Emhyr’s sleep.

“We both had,” he said, before claiming Geralt’s lips in a kiss.

2. Had anyone asked the Emperor, then he could have well done without a visit to Ard Carraigh. 

Hence he will not be able to appear before your person, as you demanded.

3. The suffocating heat pressed down on the palace along with the Emperor’s bad mood.

Just a few hours till dark.

4. The poison had been slipped in during the reception of the Grand Mogul of K’farath, or so Vattier de Rideaux would conclude three days after, and of course three days too late. 

Emhyr did not want to see it, but he was more keenly aware of it than he liked.

5. Danger was a normal state of life for Emhyr var Emreis, it had been for all Emperors of history.

Knowing Geralt he would not talk about the experience, but Emhyr could make sure, he knew, felt, that Emhyr would have never wished his darkest nightmare on him. 

Tagging @tumbleweedtech @dravenxivuk and @lohrendrell

First and last lines

I was tagged by @definitely-not-iorveth, thank you, seems fun since you laughed your ass off... let's see.

Rules: go through your last 5 fics and share the first and last line. No context.

"Your Majesty, the minstrels are here." -> Emhyr pulled the bed curtains closed, smiling smugly.

The trip to Toussaint was a disaster from the start. -> The sun was rising.

The palace’s air was suffocating. -> His hunger was far from being satisfied.

"You want me to do what?" -> "Valid," Emhyr repeated with satisfaction and smiled.

Of all the complicated lovers Geralt ever had, Emhyr var Emreis was the worst. -> He underestimated Dandelion again... but that is another story.

Okay, okay, it IS kinda funny ;)

I'm tagging @valandhirwriter, @regis-favorite-raven, @jayofolympus and @bawdybean

[valandhirwriter]

A snippet of "The Woe of Vattier de Rideaux"? :)

And here you go...

Something had to be in the air, Lux decided while he hastily bandaged the blade wound on his arm. There was no other explanation for it. This had been the sixth attempt on the Emperor’s life – all caught well before the assassins could get even close to His Majesty – but this last batch had been hyped up on a substance for sure, they had barely felt injuries and been faster than they should. Hopefully, the interrogation would yield something productive, the last four groups had been in states of various semi-religious and semi- superstitious rants, some of them close to vulgar superstition. Usually, assassins had causes, not visions, or so Bran had expressed it wryly. 

If it had only been the assassins, Lux would have accepted that it was going to be a hard summer and stocked up on all the little remedies that expedited healing. Loc Grim was ideal for that kind of supply. Unfortunately, his Majesty himself seemed to be in an odd mood to say the very least, and prone to tell off the servants for the slightest mistake. The Emperor was working hard – he often took complex topics and worked through them in summer – but he was more preoccupied than he used to be. And Lux had quietly begun worrying. Preoccupied often meant contradictory orders, and while Lux had grown used to exercising some creative thinking or moral gymnastics to reconcile those orders, without having to ever point out, that the order made no sense in the first place. This week had been particularly bad, something really occupied his Majesty’s mind, and Lux had been forced to really think outside the box on some occasions. The latest problem of the kind had actually been harmless, as the order had left Lux to decide whether or not the goldfish was to be executed. Lux, being aware that the Emperor had misspoken, had spared the denizens of the pond, which had earned him some sarcastic remark on being softhearted three hours prior, just before the assassins attacked. 

He made a face, when he felt the searing pain in his arm, as he fixed the bandage well enough for his bracer to go above it again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement in the guard-room door and Vattier der Rideaux strode in. He must have had just the same crazy week as Lux. “Lord de Rideaux,” Lux greeted him, schooling his face to stillness, it wouldn’t do to show weakness. “Did the assassins talk that fast?”

De Rideaux’s cast him a glare. “You just filled another row of my cells with the next raving lunatics, Captain. Do the terms “cavern” “Albaracast” and “through old blood in ancient blood” Mean anything to you?”

Lux kept his mien wiped of all emotions, of all signs. It was a secret he kept, not as a betrayal, but to ensure everyone’s safety, the Emperor’s most of all. He did not want to think back to the cavern, the crazed lunatic, the ritual… it had taken every ounce of skill, pain tolerance and discipline from him, to get them out of there alive, and kill the maniac while he was at it. The results – the very incident itself – better never happened, and as far as any report Lux had given was concerned the madman had captured them, drugged and bled them, and been killed before any worse could happen. The Emperor did not remember much – he had been the one drugged – and thankfully the whole incident could be brushed off as a crazy doomsday priest trying to commit murder in a spectacular fashion. Everything else could be hidden – kept in silence. “Albaracast was the man who tried to murder the Emperor, the very year we returned south,” he replied. “he resided in that labyrinth of caves in Nazaire province, and he was as mad as a cat at full moon. I think you must have read my report on it, some time?”

“I did, several times in fact,” Vattier replied, “and it is fascinating in its shortness, the very compactness of the words, but… let’s drop our latest batch of assassins for now. I have another matter that bears investigation, something a bit more recent, so to speak.” He leaned against the doorframe, studying Lux carefully, it was a new behaviour, usually, he was not that attentive with Impera, or in his own words, he only cared for their existence if they were treacherous. 

“Oh, another incident? More assassins?” Lux asked, keeping his mask in place, Vattier was fishing, and there were fish he would not get. Excepting the goldfish perhaps. “What happened?”

“An item – a small item – was left unnoticed on the Emperor’s notes two hours ago,” Vattier said, “it must have been dropped at his desk, right after he left for his meeting with the Lord Chancellor and just before the assassins struck, the nature of the item is strange.”

“So no poison, aphrodisiac or blackmail?” Lux asked, naming the usual finds of that category. Cursed objects came right after. 

“No, it was a ring – a golden ring to be precise,” Vattier stated like he expected a reaction from Lux. 

A gold ring? Now Lux frowned and wondered who in the world would have done this. A smitten servant maybe? Some noble house reminding the Emperor of past alliances? There were many options, some of them quite intriguing. “I take it, the ring was neither cursed nor bespelled nor poisoned?” he asked.

“And you would be right,” Vattier replied, taking a small silk bag and shaking a fine golden band out of it, handing it to Lux. 

Lux turned the small band in his hands, it was simple in design, but quite clear in its connotations. “No real gold, alloy with high silver value,” he said after a moment, “three semi-precious stones, arranged in a triangle, the symbol of the heart, an amethyst for silent loyalty, a lapis for true love, both framing a golden citrine for a precious heart – a bit specific in its symbols, as the golden citrine would double for the sun, the amethyst for blood sacrificed and the lapis for doomed love fated to end in death. Good craftsmanship but nothing overly special, if it is from around here, I’d guess one of the workshops at Lake’s end.”

Vattier smiled a thin smile. “You are aware that the symbolism of the ring is quite culture specific?” he asked, “many normal Nilfgaardians would read it confused, and certainly not both meanings.” 

What was he after? Lux wondered. “Maybe one of the local servants,” he said, “someone sweeping the floors or collecting the empty glass on the Emperor’s desk,” yes, the symbolism was limited to certain groups, but Lux did not take the bait to protest that they too were Nilfgaardian. Ancient blood knew better than to jump on such clumsy baits. 

“Possibly, there are very few that share your specific background, Captain. Serving in  this house requires trust – trust you earned through actions in the civil war – few others have.”

He was fishing and he tried to push Lux, it was obvious. The insinuation that true faith Nilfgaardians were considered trustworthy by rote, while others had to earn the same through suffering, was not a new one, and while the thought got to Lux sometimes, he never let it show. He smiled serenely at Vattier. “I know, but another servant might have asked a fellow servant who is from the lake, to help procure the ring, regardless of symbols.” He handed the offending item back. “I shall have my men watch the immediate surroundings of his Majesty with even greater care than before, for sure, Lord de Rideaux,”

There was a flicker in de Rideaux’s eyes, a hint of disappointment. He took the ring and thrust it into the bag. “What if I were to conclude that you placed it?” he asked.

And that was the moment were Lux decided something had to be in the air. There was a limit to madness, and this was most certainly beyond it. Something had gotten into Vattier’s head, there was no other explanation for the wild ideas he was spouting. At the same time, Lux’s temper got the better of him. He grabbed his weapons ready to return to duty, deciding to give Vattier something to chew on, on his way out. “If I ever were to commit such a corny act,” Lux said thoughtfully, “and let us assume for one moment I would be brazen enough to dare, and crude enough to choose this route, or even had any reason at all to do so: it would be three leaf-shaped iolites surrounding a perfectly clear heart of fire, I think, Lord de Rideaux, you can appreciate the difference,” Lux was sure that the other man couldn’t read that symbol, and would spend a while digging and coming up with conflicting interpretations what Lux might have meant. “I bid you a good day,”