The scrunching of the snow underneath his boots sounds loud in the eerie silence of the night. Jaskier pulls the collar of his coat closer to his neck and leans against the wind as he passes the corpse of the basilisk lying shattered in the courtyard.
He stops at the hitching post where Geralt tied down his horse, and with a sick feeling of satisfaction, he pats the mount’s neck.
“You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he murmurs. The horse watches him with attentive eyes and neighs.
“Good,” Jaskier mumbles and closes the buttons of his doublet and then of his coat. They are meant to mainly look good, but if he wants to leave the mountains behind without freezing to death, vanity and fashion need to take a step back, and the buttons will have to prove their true worth.
Jaskier unknots the reins and throws them over the horse’s head. He looks up at the keep, so much larger, so much worse than he had imagined it, made it sound in his songs. But he understands his friend Geralt better now, having been here. This is his home. This is where he grew to become the man he is now, where he recharged every winter they spent apart. For sure not a place for warmth. Not a place to learn to deal with emotions beyond reining them in during a hunt and keeping people at arm’s length.
The bard purses his lips, his jaws clenched. No wonder that even after decades, he couldn’t carve out a tiny space for himself in the witcher’s heart. No, for that to be achieved, one needs destiny, and that one isn’t on Jaskier’s side.
Granted, he comes from a privileged place. Not one filled with love either, but at least one needn’t worry to freeze under the blankets while being fully clothed.
The events in the hall have sobered him up, but he can feel the weight of a hangover combined with an adrenaline crash pulling on every muscle of his body.
What a fragile thing the human body is. No wonder Geralt never meant to burden himself with someone as fleeting as Jaskier. Humans must be like annoying midges for long-living creatures like him and his witch, irritating, but easy to slap away.
Geralt is just taking an afternoon ride with his trusty steed Roach!
@dapandapod has written an amazing fic for roach!Roach and I’ll add it onto a reblog asap!
Roach-Roach, my beloved!
(On Ao3 here)
Things you need to know about Roach: 1. She is a shapeshifter. She is just not a very good one. 2. She is gender fluid but goes by she/her, because she can 3. She is ticklish, and when she walks in tall grass she makes her legs taller, or she will buck until Geralt falls off. 4. She once was a Platypus, and nobody could decide if that is brillian or not.
The first time Geralt saw the contract, he didn’t know what to make of it. But there it was, clear as day, on the notice board.
“Duck removal. Witcher wanted. Good pay.”
What. Alright. Geralt is intrigued. Geralt has spent a good 50 years on the path, but this is a first. He wonders what they mean by ‘good pay’, and why a witcher is needed for a ‘duck removal’.
Geralt takes the contract from the notice board and makes his way up to the lordling’s house. It is a rather grand thing, and the promise of ‘good pay’ increases with every step.
Turns out, a witcher was perhaps a good idea. And the pay is indeed good. The lordling leads him out back, his hands fidgeting nervously.
You and Jaskier have been traveling about the Continent together for…well, forever it feels like. Just when it seems you’ve written a song about everything, you make the acquaintance of a Witcher and inspiration strikes! Though, Geralt seems to regard your artistic voice with indifference, borderline disdain. You’re starting to take his comments personally.
“I like that, it’s just jaunty enough, I think.”
“That’s not how it happened.”
You glanced up at Geralt who, perched on Roach’s back, seemed as tall as the cliff faces around you. His amber eyes were squinted in your and Jaskier’s direction, watching as he often did. Always so alert. Though you surmised it was a habit that came with the Witcher title. But the aversion in his furrowed brow and frown? That was all Geralt.
“Where’s your newfound respect?” He asked, forcing your focus back to his words.
“Respect doesn’t make history,” Jaskier countered before he began to sing again. Geralt stayed still, fists tightening around Roach’s reins as your fellow bard sang away.
“It’s poetic,” you added when you saw the Witcher’s jaw clench. “An artistic reimagining.”
“It’s a lie,” he huffed, “life isn’t poetic.”
“That’s why we make music. We make things…more palatable. Your life of violence isn’t suited for everyone.” You pointed to your cut lip and added, “I know people that would run for the hills with a wound like this. But our songs will mark you in history for your chivalry…”
Geralt grunted, clearly unmoved by your speech. Despite all you and Jaskier tried to do for the Witcher, he was determined to discourage your efforts. You had long since grown tired of his unamused ‘hmming’ and blank, quiet watching. Through gritted teeth you spat out a stinging end to your miniature diatribe.
“…your chivalry, which is yet another artistic reimagining.”
Before he could make another hum of displeasure, you left Geralt in the sandy dust and followed after Jaskier. He reached the chorus in your new ballad as you neared him and, as you fell into step beside him, you glanced over your shoulder. Geralt was still….still, his head moving to take in the sight of the canyon you were walking through. For a moment, you felt that maybe your speech had reached through the iced-over love in his heart.
Then you saw his shoulders sink with a sigh and the deep line of a frown on his lips form as he pressed on Roach’s flanks to push the horse forwards. You wore your own frown as you pulled your eyes to the path ahead. As you walked, you listened to Jaskier as he sang about a more poetic Geralt that slew Elves and caught coins. Never would you admit it, but it was that fictionalized Witcher in the ballad that you found yourself dreaming of in the dark of night.
What made those wonderings all the worse was the fact that the true Witcher, Geralt, your inspiration, was always a mere few paces away. Whether you were staying the night in a grimey inn or were laid across from him with a campfire between you, as you were later that night, Geralt was always nearby. Always a reminder of what, of who, you couldn’t have. Being held hostage by the steep rock faces of the canyon did not help to ease that turmoil. Even over the crackling embers, you could hear Geralt shift in his sleep.
The sound echoed too much of reality and made falling to the fantasy of your dreamy Witcher far too difficult. From where you laid, you glanced to your right, away from the dwindling campfire, over to Jaskier. His lips were parted and soft snores filed out of his mouth only forcing rest farther from you. With a sigh, you looked up to the starry sky.
In it, you found the same quiet, and seemingly indifferent, company Geralt provided. You longed for more warmth; though you would never admit that out loud. The songs you wrote were devoid of romance for that purpose. You did not dare give away any hint of your feelings. Doing so would feel worse than death, you imagined.
And imagine you did. Your mind wandered and you stayed, terribly awake, staring up at the sky for a few minutes more before you got up. With your companions asleep, you were careful with your steps as you made off towards a nearby strip of woods. You hoped that a midnight stroll along the treeline would tire you out or, at least, dull the whirlwind whistling of your thoughts as they raced by.
Yet, you found yourself venturing further into the bush to better escape them. Ferns of all sorts nipped at your legs while a small symphony of nocturnal birds led you deeper. Their singing distracted you enough, but not quite enough to dull your every thought of Geralt, as he consumed so many.
And definitely not enough to ignore how a sudden mass of fog seemed to surround you. Hazy and light, the low clouds sent a shiver down your spine. How eery, you thought before you asked yourself: how could this be worked into a ballad? Perhaps there was a poor fair maiden, lost and alone, who wandered the woods in search of home.
But you were no fair maiden, and that would be considered dishonest if Geralt had any say. You scoffed at the thought. How you hated his influence over you. Every comment he made, every disapproving stare, Gods! However, it wasn’t anger for the Witcher himself that swelled in your chest. No, it was anger for yourself, for falling for a man so, seemingly, cold.
Your body, unable to hold all that disdain within itself, made your foot stomp against the obscured earth as you trekked through the fog. Heaviness nestled in your heart like a root of some toxic plant and you forced yourself to stop, take a breath. The walk through the woods wasn’t helping to clear your head, not anymore. You needed to lay down, push the thoughts aside with the promise of sleep.
Though, when you took the next few seconds to glance around, you saw only fog. “But I am lost,” you murmured bitterly, “and I am alone.”
It was then you heard the crackling of twigs. A white-hot flash of panic flooded your entire being. Where had it come from? Somewhere in the fog! Above? To the side?
Fear sent you into a frenzy of wide-eyed glances between trees and through the mist. You saw nothing but heard something. Something large, you imagined, something viler than the elves of the morning. Something with sharper teeth and a thirst for blood.
Just as you felt the darkness of doom creep over your shoulders, a glimmer in the fog caught your eyes. Almost as if a firefly found itself lost in the haze, a dull flicker of light spread through the mass of mist. The romantic in you hoped that it was a mystical muse lighting your way back to camp. A more primal part of you begged you to step towards your only possible source of illumination.
The Geralt in you, his voice nearly ever-present, scolded you. Turn around and run, that’s what it told you. For the first time, you were compelled to listen.
Quickly, you spun around on your heel and tried to ignore the continuous rustling of fauna behind you. You started forwards, back the way you came, just as the sounds of whatever hidden something grew louder. With each step you took, your apprehension grew, as did the volume of the growling, glowing creature that stalked after you. Your gut twisted with wild nerves, stirring you into the closest thing to a sprint as you could muster.
Lungs heaving, you darted through the trees in a desperate attempt to escape. Astray in the searing panic that was running for your life, you sent frantic, wild-eyed glances over your shoulder. What chased after you was a spindly figure that almost seemed to glow from its chest, shedding a dim light on the forest floor before it. Soulless eyes were sunken in a wrinkled face that was framed by a pair of pointed ears.
You didn’t have a clue what it was, only that its grimace made it less friend and more a dangerous foe.
You didn’t have a clue what it was, until a gruff voice shouted out, “Fogler!”
The yell made you jump, set your footfalls off-center, and primed you to fall flat on your face. Roots entangled your foot, anchoring you firmly and suddenly to the dirt. Stones and sharper twigs bit at every inch of skin you had exposed. You winced at the pain until the scurrying and nasty gurgling of the creature, the Fogler, pulled you back to the threat of death. Then numbed by fear, you turned and saw it.
Claws, long and dark, reached for you. In a feeble attempt of defense, you raised your hands and cried out.
Rather than a strike, thick wetness hit your open palms. Slowly, you lowered your arms and looked at where the Fogler had been moments before. The creature was still there, though it was laid back and a dagger was buried in its chest.
“Are you alright?” Asked the same gravelly, and terribly familiar, voice from before. With wide eyes, you glanced up and were met with Geralt’s amber eyes. He looked down at you, as he always did, with his hand extended towards you, fingers waiting for your own.
“You…You?”
“Were you expecting a valiant knight?” He asked, gently shaking his hand for you to take it. “C’mon.”
You shook your head and stood on your own, despite the aching in your legs. Geralt’s sudden appearance shook you from the panic that claimed you a mere moment ago. “Did you follow me? Were you following me?!”
“You went for a walk in the woods, in the dark, like an idiot. So, yes, I followed you.” Geralt replied, his hand falling to his side and gesturing towards the slain creature behind you. “It’s a good thing I did.”
“A good thing?!”
“Yes,” Geralt replied coolly. Even in the limited light, you could make out his stone-cold features. There was no give in him. No deeper twinge that whispered of concern he held for you. But the way his eyes were fixed on you made you feel so watched, so wonderfully, frighteningly seen. How infuriating he was!
"Gods! All you ever do is watch and grumble and groan! You’re,” you threw your hands up in the air and looked up as if the right words hung there. You found nothing. “You’re-”
“What? What am I, Y/N?”
At the softer tone of his question, you felt compelled to meet Geralt’s gaze. His expression was still blank, waiting, and his posture was, as always, heavy. Shoulders were drawn back slightly, as if ready to hurl another dagger into the heart of a new threat. The way he carried himself made the quiet, honest curiosity in his voice all the more strained.
“Immovable,” you admitted in a breath, “a tower whose shadow I can’t escape.”
Geralt’s lips quirked upwards then, one of those fleeting smiles that you saw him wear all too rarely. Despite his expression, there was a sadness in his voice as he said, “sounds poetic.“
It was then, caught in a ray of moonlight, that you saw a Witcher more akin to the one that had your heart. Geralt’s gentle side shone through in the darkest hour. What sweet torture it was to see him at last, to have him so close, but unable to touch.
As if he read that thought, Geralt’s gaze dropped from yours and you felt a chill run down your spine. He was always out of reach. You had Folger blood on your hands anyway.
"We should get back to the camp,” you mumbled bitterly.
Geralt hummed in response, a sound you assumed was an agreement. Yet, as you began to walk past him, a hand shot out and gripped your arm. You stopped dead in your tracks and found Geralt’s eyes once more. Something shifted, something gave way.
Wordlessly, Geralt’s hand brushed down your arm until his fingers found your wrist. He pulled one of your ichor-covered hands close to his chest. You wanted to ask what he was doing, what he was planning, but you didn’t dare ruin the moment or interrupt the sensation of his skin against your own. When he pulled out an already grimey handkerchief from a pocket on his dark trousers, any question you held died on your tongue.
“Thank you,” you murmured as Geralt wiped the blood off your hands. His movements slowed as crimson soaked in the fabric, but he did not loosen his grip. You saw the amber of his eyes flick down to your lips before he looked into your eyes again.
"Poetic enough for you?”
There was an edge to his question. Not quite like the refined, cutting edge of Geralt’s favorite sword or the usual harsh honesty his words were laced with. No, it was teasing. It was an edge of humor that you had barely seen Geralt express since you met him.
“So much so that I must be imagining it,” you replied, playing into his tone.
Geralt’s eyes wandered back down to your lips at your response. When he met your gaze again, there was a question heavy in his features, his furrowed brow, and parted mouth. You leaned in closer, hoping he would take the hint, take your silent answer to his silent question. When his grip on your wrist tightened and he pulled you to his chest, you became grateful for the Witcher’s watchfulness, his intuitiveness.
Through you were far more grateful for the surprising softness of his lips, how easily they melded against your own. How you fit together like a dream, like two lines of poetry that flowed lyrically into each other. Your next song felt like that midnight kiss.
Next chapter of my cat witcher OC (Nix) fic. See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here.
An injury (it’s fine), some PTSD, some talking & comfort <3
-
Nix was washing down the table in the hall when Eskel returned from hunting, pushing through the front door while holding his side. When Nix spotted him her hand froze mid-swipe.
“Eskel?” she asked, concerned. She started walking towards him, but when she smelled blood she started running. “What happened?”
“Wyvern thought that deer looked like a good meal too, I guess.” He chuckled, slightly out of breath. A blood stain was blooming further out underneath his hand. “It’s not that bad.”
Nix ignored his words and gently pulled his hand away, then carefully peeled his gambeson aside. Her fingers were stained with blood and her hands started to shake. A memory flashed before her eyes, her hands covered in Aleks’s blood, and she shook her head fiercely. Not now. She needed to focus on helping Eskel. She took his sword belt and gambeson off, but she was starting to tremble, her breathing growing ragged.
“Hey, Nix, it’s alright, I’ll be fine,” Eskel tried to reassure her.
Lambert and Aiden came down the stairs together.
“Well, where’s my dinner?” Lambert called out jokingly to his brother, but as he focused on the scene in front of them his breath hitched and he hurried forwards, Aiden on his heels. “Hey, what the fuck, you’re supposed to take down the wildlife, ‘skel, not the other way ‘round.”
“You know, I knew I was forgetting something,” Eskel responded sarcastically, wincing slightly.
Aiden came up beside Nix, who was starting to lose control of her breathing, and gently touched her elbow. “Nix, love, hey.”
She jolted at the touch, looking at him with wide wet eyes.
“Here,” Aiden continued, “we’ll let Lambert take care of Eskel, ok? He’s going to be alright. Let’s go wash your hands.”
“So much blood,” she said in a shaky whisper.
“It’s ok. We’re going to clean it all up, and Lambert’s gonna patch up Eskel good as new. Everything’s going to be ok.” He steered her towards the kitchen with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He brought her to the sink and gently washed her hands as she stared ahead with glazed eyes, drawing in gasping breaths. “What’s the furthest sound you can hear?” he asked, nudging her shoulder gently.
“Uhm… there’s a mouse in the cellar,” she took a shaky breath, “wait, I think there’s a bird, nesting or something, on the far wall outside.”
“Good,” Aiden soothed, “and what’s the faintest thing you can smell? Can you smell the chickens outside?”
She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She pushed past the baking scents in the kitchen, the blood in the dining area, willing down her speeding pulse that came with it, the fresh air that had come in the door… “The snow in the air… Lil Bleater’s enclosure. Pine trees.”
“Perfect. What’s the softest thing in this room?” Aiden asked quietly. Nix glanced around the room before landing her gaze back on Aiden. She leaned forward and nuzzled into his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her.
“You,” she murmured, and he snorted into her hair, stroking her back lightly.
“Feel a bit better?”
“Yeah. Thanks Aiden.”
“No problem, kit. Let’s make some tea for everyone, hmm? And we can put out some of the sweet buns Vesemir baked earlier. We can have it around the fire.”
“Ok.”
By the time they’d made tea and put together a tray, Eskel and Lambert had come back downstairs from the infirmary. Eskel was wearing a fresh set of clothes.
Eskel caught Nix staring. “Right as rain! Lambert got me all patched up.”
She gave a tight smile and nodded.
“So, do I need to go hunting now, since you failed at your job?” Lambert asked teasingly.
“You can have all the wyvern your stomach desires, left it outside for you. Maybe if you burn off some energy dealing with that, you’ll have less for your noisy night-time—” Eskel was cut off by Lambert.
“Oi, alright! That’s fine. You know, maybe I’m in the mood for goat—” Lambert was cut off by a growl from Eskel at the same time as Aiden’s elbow found his ribs.
“Drink your fucking tea, would you?” Aiden demanded.
“Alright, alright. Everyone is so touchy,” Lambert grumbled, picking up his cup. He glanced at Nix, who was staring into the fire, then back into his drink. He cleared his throat. “Good tea,” he offered. When he got no response, he added, “Thanks Nix.”
She startled and looked up. “Hmm?”
“Thanks for the tea.”
“Oh. No problem.” She gave him a weak smile and turned back to the flames. They finished their drinks and treats in silence.
-
That night Nix woke up from another nightmare about Aleks, gasping for breath in the dark of her room. She threw off the blanket and furs and quickly dressed, then made her way down the hall, down the stairs and out of the keep. She stood outside the doors for a minute, watching her breath escape in white puffs in the frigid air. Flashes of her nightmare kept repeating in her mind, and she growled angrily. She tore across the courtyard, stopping in front of a training dummy, and struck it quickly with a right hook. Like a dam had broken, she started raining down hits and kicks on the dummy, pouring all of her misery into the form of cloth and straw.
-
Eskel was still trying to get to sleep, struggling to get comfortable with his aching side, when he heard footsteps pass by his door, going towards the stairs. Guessing at who it was, he carefully rolled out of bed and got dressed before following them down the hall.
He couldn’t see or hear anyone downstairs in the kitchen or the main hall, and there was a whiff of crisp winter air, so he continued to the doors and went outside. He spotted Nix across the courtyard, beating one of the training dummies, and crossed towards her. She hiccoughed, and he could smell salt in the air. She threw one last half-hearted punch at the dummy and sank to her knees, starting to sob.
“Nix?” Eskel came up behind her. “Hey, Nix,” he said softly, “what’s going on. You’re shaking from the cold, let’s go back inside, hmm?” He gently helped her up. “I’ll stoke up your fire. Come on.” He turned her back inside, and she let herself be led, sobs quieting back down to silent crying.
They ascended the stairs together, but as he walked them towards her room, she stopped.
“I…I don’t want to go back there tonight,” she said quietly.
“Alright. You could come to mine, if you like? Just to sleep,” he rushed to add.
“Ok,” she whispered.
They walked over to his room, and Eskel tossed another log on the fire before turning to her.
“Do you mind if I take off my pants? I’ll keep my shirts and braies on.”
She nodded. They both stripped off their cloaks, pants, and boots , then slipped under the blankets. After a few minutes Nix shuffled closer, and Eskel lifted his arm. She snuggled into his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her. She shivered, and he froze, lifting his arm slightly, but she nuzzled into his chest, and he relaxed back down again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he murmured. “Did you have another nightmare?”
She nodded, but didn’t elaborate. The wind surged past the window, whistling through a crack, and the fire sparked. Eskel’s eyelids were growing heavy when Nix’s whisper roused him.
“It’s always the same.”
“Hmm?”
“It’s always our last contract. The night… the night I lost Aleks.”
Eskel shifted slightly, turning into her and lightly rubbing his thumb along her side.
“We were taking out a sadistic lord. We’d infiltrated the party he was hosting, gotten him into a room alone and killed him without any trouble. Everything had gone according to plan, we should have been free and clear. But we were cornered by his men in a hallway on our way out. There were too many of them.” Nix drew in a shaky breath. “We took them all out, but not before… before…” Her breathing hitched, and she took a moment to try to steady it. “She died in my arms. I dream of her blood soaking her dress and mine, staining my hands, like it will never wash off…”
She turned her face into Eskel’s chest, her breathing ragged, his shirt growing wet.
Eskel thought back to earlier that afternoon, what it might have looked like to Nix when he came in bleeding, the memories it must have set off. He hugged her tighter.
“I’m so sorry.” He wished he had something more to say, but he knew the ache of loss, knew there were never really any words that would fill it. “And I’m sorry if I triggered that memory earlier.”
She made a sound, something between a sniff and a laugh, her throat still thick with tears. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You shouldn’t be apologizing to me, you’re the one who got injured.” She shoved up onto her elbow, leaning over Eskel. “I didn’t even ask. Are you ok? Does it hurt?”
He smiled at her. “I’m fine. Hardly know it’s there.” He tugged her back down to him. “Think you can sleep now?”
She nodded, snuggling into him and wrapping her arm around him below the bandages.
“Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible. He hummed and nosed in her hair. It wasn’t long before their breathing evened out and both were asleep.
Next chapter of my cat witcher OC (Nix) fic. See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here.
Cozy library times
- - -
Eskel hurried through the courtyards, scanning the area. He had already checked the animal enclosures and stables, and they had been devoid of people. Lambert and Aiden had been sparring (or engaging in foreplay, he could never tell), in the training area. Geralt and Jaskier seemed to be enjoying each-other’s company in the barn, so Eskel hadn’t bothered checking inside, as they were clearly in there alone, judging by the sounds he was hearing. Unless she’d ventured further outside the walls, which he doubted, and sincerely hoped she wouldn’t on her own, Nix wasn’t outside.
Eskel spun around and jogged back inside. He had already checked her room and the kitchen, which was where he had found Vesemir. The eldest witcher had told him that Nix had been charged with gathering eggs and cleaning the hen house that morning, but he hadn’t seen her since. She wouldn’t go outside the walls, he told himself. Remembering her hunting outing with Aiden, a shiver ran down Eskel’s spine. It wasn’t snowing today, but it was damn cold, and while her leg seemed to have healed, he still worried. Nix was a witcher, still strong and stubborn as any of his brothers, but she seemed somewhat fragile with her obviously weaker healing abilities. If she had gone out on her own, they would have words. He would tell her she wasn’t to go out on her own. He would… Eksel halted that train of thought, snickering to himself. If he said anything like that to her she’d likely give him a black eye and refuse to talk to him for days. If he was lucky.
Eskel ran into the library, out of breath, slowing to a stop when he spotted a head of dark hair over the top of a chair by the fire. He stopped a moment to let his breathing calm, and Nix popped her head up over the chair to look at him.
“You racing someone, or running from someone?” She smirked. “Do you need to be hidden? Did you commit a crime?”
Eskel chuckled, walking over and dropping to the floor on the rug at her feet.
“No crime today. The others are all busy canoodling outside.”
Nix raised a dark brow. “All together?”
Eskel snorted. “Lambert and Aiden are sparring, in the loosest sense of the word, in the training area. And I’m fairly certain that what Geralt and Jaskier are doing in the hay shouldn’t be said in polite company.”
Nix laughed. “Well, I don’t know that you’ll find any polite company around here, but I also don’t need any more details.”
“Noted.”
“So what were you running around out of breath for? Did you need help with something?”
Eskel shook his head. “No. I was looking for you.”
“Oh. Well, you found me. Why the hurry, though?”
The tips of Eskel’s ears turned pink. “I was worried.”
Nix blinked at him. “Worried?”
Eskel cleared his throat and glanced at the fire. “Well, you weren’t in your room, and Vesemir said you were on chicken duty, but I figured that should have been done an hour or two ago, and then I couldn’t find you anywhere outside…”
“And you thought, what? The chickens might have revolted? That I got lost, or…”
“You don’t exactly have the best track record outside of the keep.”
“Hey!”
“Well?”
“‘m perfectly capable,” she grumbled.
“I know”
They lapsed into silence for a few minutes.
“What are you reading?”
“Jaskier recommended this book of poetry: I’m enjoying it.”
“Is it one of his?”
“No, but he did lend me one of those as well,” she laughed.
After a few minutes of companionable silence, Nix let her hand drift down near her knees, brushing the top of Eskel’s hair. It was incredibly soft. After a moment she grew bolder, trailing her fingers through it lightly. When Eskel didn’t move away or say anything she let her fingers draw through deeper, down to his scalp. He rumbled happily, and she paused.
“Mmm, don’t stop.”
She chuckled softly. “Alright.”
“Read to me?”
“Hmm… The Frog.
Have you ever wished when fretting
‘Bout the chilly air of spring,
When the days are longer getting
And the frogs begin to sing,
Have you ever wished that you could
Just change places with the frog—
Let him shoulder all your trouble
And then leave you on the log,
In the middle of the mill-pond,
Nothing in the world to do?
Have you wished you could change places,
You be frog and frog be you?
He don’t fret 'bout rainy weather;
If the sun shines he don’t cry;
He just takes it all together;
Happy wet and happy dry.”
“I think the frog would have a hard time fighting monsters,” Eskel said.
“Well, that would be the frog’s problem.”
“But I would feel guilty.”
“Sort of misses the point of trading places.”
“Mmm. How about you? Would you like to be a frog?”
“Holds a certain appeal, doesn’t it? No worries or responsibilities, just sitting on logs and hopping about and catching flies.”
“One might argue that frogs worry about being eaten.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever seen a frog look worried.”
“But have you ever spoken with one?”
Nix chuckled. “Can’t say that I have, no.”
“Geralt did, I think. But then, that wasn’t truly a frog, but a cursed prince.”
“Oh? And did a princess kiss him and he turned back?”
Eskel sighed. “No, it wasn’t that kind of story.”
“They usually aren’t. Not in real life. Especially not when witchers are involved.”
“It seems that way.” He adjusted his position, sitting back against her chair and resting his head against her knees. When he’d settled she went back to playing with his hair, twisting a lock around her finger. “What worries and responsibilities do you wish to be rid of?” He asked.
“The usual ones. All of them. Sometimes I envy humans. To be a milkmaid or a seamstress, go to work without fearing for your life, do your job and go home at the end of the day. Have a home and a family to go back to. But that isn’t in the cards for us. May as well dream of being a frog.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Being a frog?” She gave the lock of hair a little tug.
Eskel chuckled. “No. I’ll pass on the flies. The human life though. Maybe a blacksmith.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure. Make swords instead of swinging them. Make pots to cook dinner at home.”
“You would cook the dinner?”
“With my partner. Or maybe we’d take turns.”
“That does sound nice.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“Maybe it’s not so out of reach,” Eskel said.
“What?”
“Who said witchers can’t have those things?”
Nix scoffed.
“I mean it. Who’s to stop us from having a home, or any of those things, really.”
“It isn’t done.”
“Doesn’t mean it couldn’t be.”
“Hmm. Perhaps.”
“Perhaps? You have no problem telling Aiden where to go and how to get there, but you’re going to let others’ expectations dictate what you can and can’t do with your life? A home is just a house, a structure made of wood. Love makes it a home.”
She twitched and tugged his hair a little harder by accident, then quickly let it go and combed through it in apology.
“Why are you talking about love all of a sudden,” she mumbled.
“It’s part of what we were talking about, isn’t it?”
He turned to look at her, his eyes searching, and she shrugged.
“I suppose,” she replied, her eyes on her hands which she’d pulled back to the book, fidgeting with the pages.
Eskel shuffled so that he was properly facing her. “Aiden said you lost someone.” Nix nodded. She was silent for so long that Eskel was about to apologize for asking, when she spoke up.
“There was no house, but she was my home.” She flicked her eyes up to Eskel’s then quickly back down.
“You don’t have to tell me if it’s painful to talk about,” Eskel offered gently.
“Her name was Aleksandra. She was a Cat as well. We did everything together. Travelled together, took contracts together. She was beautiful, and strong. Confident to a fault. Sarcastic and funny and stupidly kind. She was everything, and then,” her voice faltered, “and then she was gone.”
Eskel reached a hand up and set it gently on her knee, and when she didn’t shy away he rubbed it gently. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I would have loved to have met her. She sounds amazing.”
“She was,” Nix said with a watery smile, meeting his eyes. “She would have liked you.”
He smiled. “I’m glad. I’m sure I would have liked her too, from the sounds of it. Though…” He trailed off and Nix looked at him questioningly.
“Though?”
“I might have been jealous if she were always by your side.”
Nix’s eyes widened then darted down to the book in her lap.
“It’s true life is no fairytale. No kiss will bring back what we’ve lost, no fairy godmother will grant our wishes, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy,” Eskel said.
“We can, but it doesn’t last.”
“Nothing lasts forever. But I hope you won’t let your loss stop you from being happy again. I’d wager that Aleksandra would want you to be happy.”
Nix was about to say something when Jaskier came bounding into the library with ruddy cheeks.
“Nix! Vesemir asked me to fetch you to help with dinner.” Jaskier came up alongside them. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“No, that’s alright! Thank you Jaskier, tell Vesemir I’m on my way.”
Jaskier nodded, and left the room. Nix turned back to Eskel.
“Sorry Eskel, I should go…”
Eskel got to his feet and offered Nix a hand. “Of course, we shouldn’t keep the old man waiting.”
She set the book on the table beside the chair and accepted the hand up.
“Maybe you can read to me again tomorrow.”
Nix’s cheeks heated. “If you like. More poetry?”
“Maybe Jaskier can recommend something. Maybe something about new beginnings.”
Nix looked up at him, his golden eyes wide and hopeful, with a spark of mirth. He was smiling, and something about his expression reminded her of how Aleks had looked at her, a lifetime ago.
She caught herself smiling back at him. “No. No, it isn’t.”
Next chapter of my cat witcher OC (Nix) fic. See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here.
Wake up, kitties!
- - -
Aiden burrowed his face further into Lambert’s throat, his partner’s stubble scratching lightly at his forehead. He was slowly waking up, surrounded by Lambert’s familiar, comforting scent, cozy under a heap of bedding and laying against Lambert’s warm skin.
“You awake, kitten?” Lambert murmured.
“Mmm.”
“How do you feel?”
“Cozy,” Aiden mumbled.
“Nothing hurts? Can you feel your toes?”
“What are you…” Aiden trailed off as memories started to filter back. He had been hunting with Nix, and it had started to snow. They had gotten lost, and it had been cold. So cold. They had finally stopped and huddled in the snow… He bolted up in bed, the blankets and furs pooling around his waist. “The snow! Nix!”
“Yeah,” Lambert replied, sitting up and trailing his hand up Aiden’s back softly. “The snow. I told you to turn back right away! You’re lucky your dick didn’t freeze off before we found you.”
“Where’s Nix? Is she ok?” Aiden asked insistently.
“Yeah, she’s ok. She’s in her room.” Lambert’s voice was still rough with sleep, and he rubbed wearily at his eyes.
Aiden’s posture relaxed a fraction. He took stock of his limbs and extremities.
“Ican feel my toes. Everything seems fine.” He flexed his fingers and wiggled his toes, then stretched. “It was so cold. I know we were becoming hypothermic before everything faded. How…”
“Like I said, you’re a lucky bastard. When we found you, you were both covered in snow and turning blue. Scared the fuck outta me. I haven’t felt like that since —” Lambert cleared his throat. “Well anyways, we bundled you back to the keep, had the fires roaring, stripped off all your wet and frozen clothing, and warmed you up under a pile of furs with skin to skin. Best way to do it.”
“And Nix?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah what?”
“What what? Like I said, we did all that, and it worked, we saved your asses. And fingers and toes.”
“You did… you… she… you took her clothes off and did skin to skin?!”
“WellI didn’t, I was with you.”
“Lambert!!”
“WHAT?? You gonna pick a bone over that? Eskel took care of her. Jaskier checked in on them. I’m sorry, would you have rather we let her lose some extremities, or die? Better to let her die than upset her?”
Aiden spluttered, and Lambert continued, softening.
“I know, alright? I know it’s bad. But what should we have done? You know as well as I do it’s the safest way, and you were a block of ice, you weren’t about to be warming anyone else up, so it had to be one of us.”
Aiden nodded tersely. “I know. I know, it’s just…” He flipped off the covers and started searching for clothes to pull on. “I’ve got to check on her.”
Lambert sighed behind him before following suit and getting dressed.
“I gave them one of your shirts to put on her once she was warmed up enough to be safe.”
Aiden grunted in response. Once he was dressed, he hurried across the hall, gently pushing the door open and entering, before stopping in his tracks at the scene before him. Nix was snuggled up to Eskel, her head on his clothed chest, the covers pulled up under her chin. Eskel cracked an eye open and peered at him.
“Hey,” Eskel whispered groggily. “She’s ok.”
Aiden stared mutely for a moment. “Is she… I mean, did she…” he whispered.
“She woke up a while ago, and we talked briefly. She wanted me to stay.”
Aiden nodded absently, baffled by what he was seeing and hearing.
“I’ll make sure you know when she’s up so you can check in with her,” Eskel offered, and Aiden nodded again. Nix made a soft noise in her sleep, then nuzzled into Eskel’s chest before settling again. Aiden crept back out of the room and closed the door softly behind himself.
-
When Nix woke again, she couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so soundly, or felt so safe. She also wasn’t sure of the last time she had been so close with someone, woken wrapped around another warm body. A steady, slow heartbeat thumped under her ear through the soft worn linen shirt Eskel wore, and his arm was secure around her waist. He shifted under her as she stirred.
“You awake?” he whispered.
“Mmm.”
His fingers stroked lightly up and down her back. “We should go downstairs when you’re ready. You must be hungry, and I think Aiden is anxious to see you.”
She pushed up on an elbow, rubbing at her eyes. “Right. Ok.”
As she sat up properly, Eskel slid out of the bed and pulled on the pants Jaskier had left him.
“I’ll let you get dressed and see you downstairs?” he asked.
She nodded in reply. As he got to the door, she called out.
“Eskel?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He smiled softly. “I’m glad you’re ok. Thank you for trusting me. I’m sorry again for—”
“Don’t, you probably saved my life. I’m grateful; for that, and for… that you stayed.”
“I was happy to,” he said with a smile, before turning back and walking out, closing the door quietly.
Nix stayed sitting in bed, looking at the closed door. Her emotions were all over the place. Eskel made her feel warm, and cared for, and safe.
Part of her craved that: to let down the guard she’d been fighting so hard to maintain. To let someone else take care of her. Laying in his broad arms, she felt settled and safe in a way she hadn’t since before she lost Aleks. A feeling she had often worried, in her darker moments, that she wouldn’t experience again.
Part of her wanted to run from that. It meant being vulnerable again. It meant letting something into her heart, knowing it could be ripped back out. Losing Aleks had nearly destroyed her. She couldn’t even remember the days after it happened: where she had gone, what she had done, how she had survived. After that she had closed off her emotions, doing what she had to to survive, moving through life without really experiencing it. She didn’t think she could survive another loss like that.
She hadn’t been looking for a partner of any sort. Hadn’t felt ready for someone else, hadn’t been sure she ever would be. She didn’t want to feel like she was replacing Aleks, and she hadn’t felt that anyone ever could. Her guilt, grief and fear left her feeling that it was easier, safer, not to try.
And besides, her and Eskel’s lifestyles were different. Wolves hunted monsters, they didn’t take contracts on people, whereas that was all she did, working as a spy and assassin. She was surprised she had been let into Kaer Morhen at all, really, but the type of contracts she took wasn’t a topic that had ever come up. She wondered what would happen if it did. She couldn’t imagine she’d make it very far from the keep in this weather. A shiver ran down her spine.
Worrying over it all now wasn’t doing her any good. What had been a dull ache in the back of her consciousness was becoming a throbbing headache. She pushed the thoughts aside and went about getting dressed. While the thought of burrowing under the covers and staying there for the rest of the winter currently held great appeal, her headache wouldn’t go away on its own, her stomach was growling, and she knew Aiden wouldn’t let her hide for long once he knew she was up. She wrapped a fur around her shoulders and headed downstairs. Ale. That might help things. Or White Gull. Even better.
Eskel and his elven lover Aniela have been together for some years when an accident occurs…
See the Masterpost for more info, chapter links & content/warnings. Masterpost here.
Ch. 4: The promised happy ending <3
-
When they arrived in Kaer Morhen they took Vesemir by surprise, being early, and arriving by portal. After they gave him a quick explanation, Yennefer retired to the room she used when she visited to rest, and Eskel went to his, followed closely by Vesemir. Vesemir filled the fireplace and started a fire, then turned to Eskel.
“I’ll bring up a jug of water. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Eskel gave his thanks and the older witcher left. He took his and Aniela’s outer layers off, then tucked them into bed, holding Aniela close to his body. Her head was tucked under his chin, and he combed his hand slowly through her hair. He felt like his heart was held in a vice. He could have lost her. A voice in his head whispered that he still could, and he pushed it forcefully away. He couldn’t bear the thought.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “Please, come back to me.” He brushed a kiss to her forehead, then leaned his head against hers. He drifted in and out of consciousness, unable to settle enough to sleep properly. Every time he woke, he held his breath until he heard her breathing, her heartbeat, before allowing himself to relax again.
-
Aniela woke on a familiar chest, surrounded by a familiar scent. Fingers combing through her hair. She must be dreaming, she thought. Or had she died in that cell? Perhaps this was what the afterlife was like, if you deserved it. She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to break whatever dream or spell this was.
“Ani?” A whisper, a voice she would know anywhere. She blinked her eyes slowly open. She looked up into a face more familiar than her own. Golden eyes, full lips, ragged scar.
“Eskel.”
“How do you feel?”
“I…you…do you remember me?”
A pained look crossed his face. “Ani, I’m so sorry.”
“Am I dreaming?” she whispered, a tear tracking down her cheek.
Eskel reached down and brushed it away gently with his thumb, caressing her cheek, and she leaned into the touch, closing her eyes again.
“No,” he replied quietly, voice choked with emotion. “We’re in our room in Kaer Morhen.”
She blinked up at him. “How?”
“Yen portalled us here.”
“But, how… I was… you…”
Eskel took in a shaky breath. “Geralt and Jaskier found you in a jail cell. I think they contacted Yennefer for help, and she brought you all to me, then brought us here. She helped me regain my memories. I think I must have hit my head during my hunt. Ani, I’m so sorry. I scared and upset you, and then you ran, and… you must have been terrified. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I swear I’ll try.”
Aniela shook her head, trying to hold back more tears. “It isn’t your fault. I panicked, I was stupid. By the time I could think more sensibly, it was too late. I was too far away, and had no way to find you.” She hiccoughed a sob. “I missed you so much.”
“I had the horrible feeling that I was missing something, but I couldn’t remember. I’m so sorry, Ani. I promised to take care of you. The thought that I could have lost you…I can’t bear it. I hope it never does, but if something were to happen again–” Ani stiffened in his arms, and he rubbed a hand up and down her back soothingly, “Yen said she would get a xenovox for you, so that you’d be able to contact her.”
“Really?”
“Really. I know you have a hard time believing it, but everyone cares about you very much. You’re family, and they were all worried. I think Yennefer was ready to run me through with Geralt’s sword for being away from you. She was afraid for you. If anything ever happens, please don’t run again.” He gave her a squeeze. “Get help from our family. Please, promiseme?”
“I promise,” she whispered. She looked up into his eyes and found everything she had been missing; love, care, devotion, warmth. She shuffled further up to bury her face in his neck, wrapping her arms around him. He tightened his own around her, face in her hair.
“I love you,” he breathed. “I love you so much, more than anything. That was terrifying, I never want to go through that again.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head in silence.
After a few minutes, she moved her face back an inch. “I suppose I’ll owe Lambert an apology as well, and thanks to the others.”
Eskel huffed a laugh. “What did you do to Lambert? I haven’t seen him in months.”
“I ran into him, while I was… on my own. In a market. He was glad to see me, and kind, but he asked after you, and I panicked. I shook him off and ran. I think I confused and worried him. I feel horrible.”
“Hmm. I’m sure he’ll forgive you. He’ll be glad to see you’re alright.”
She tucked her face back into him. “Are you sure that…”
“Hmm?”
“Are you sure I’m not… a burden to you?”
“Never!” He nudged her face back so he could meet her eyes. “Ani. Never. You bring warmth and light and happiness to my life. I can’t imagine being without you. Even without my memories, those days without you, they were awful. I hope I’ll never have to know days like that again. Iloveyou.”
“I love you too.” The tears she’d been fighting spilled down her cheeks, and he thumbed the first few away, then clasped her face in his hands and kissed the rest of them away. Her tears slowed, then stopped, and she snuggled back in his arms.
“How did Geralt and Jaskier find me? How did they get me out?”
“I really don’t know any of the story, we didn’t have time. I don’t even know what you were doing in jail to begin with.”
“I lost my glamour bracelet. A baron thought I made a good curiosity to show off.”
Eskel growled. “He’ll be lucky if I never meet him. We’ll get you a new bracelet. If you want. Or we can stay up here.”
She laughed. “And do what?”
“Raise the goats and chickens.”
“We can’t!”
“We could, if we wanted to. I just want you to be safe, and happy.”
“I’m happy as long as I’m with you. And you keep me safe. I think you would go crazy if we stayed here all year long, and I’m not sure we can live sustainably off of just the goats and chickens.”
“Hmm. You might be right. Well, we have all winter to think about it and make plans. And I’m not letting you out of my sight all season.”
“Alright. That sounds nice… I love you, so much. It’s good to be home.”
Eskel and his elven lover Aniela have been together for some years when an accident occurs…
See the Masterpost for more info, chapter links & content/warnings. Masterpost here.
Ch. 3: Geralt & Jaskier show up and take over the chapter. Lots of banter.
-
Two days later, Geralt and Jaskier paused for lunch at a tavern in a small village, quickly tearing into their bread and stew when it arrived.
“Mmf, Geralt, I don’t know if it’s because it’s genuinely good, or if it’s because we’ve been eating travel rations for days, but this is excellent.”
“Mm. The latter,” Geralt suggested, looking at the bard with amusement.
“Well, even so.” Jaskier chewed happily and glanced around the tavern. It was just past lunchtime, so it wasn’t overly busy, but a few tables were occupied by villagers. He kept his ears perked while he ate, always listening for things that would make good writing material. It was mostly gossip and idle chit chat: who was sleeping with whom, whose chickens had been attacked by a wild animal, opinions on the weather. Then the conversation at a table near their own caught his interest.
“But not a real elf, surely!”
“Aye! Pointed ears and everythin!”
“Haveyou seen it?”
“Well, no, but Mable’s cousin works in the kitchens, and she swears—”
“Mable’s cousin’s mouth gets away from her. What would he do with an elf, anyways?”
“Dunno. She says he’s planning a party, gonna show it off then.”
“Show off what, exactly? What do elves do? It gonna make a plant grow, or, turn green, or something?”
“What are you on about?”
“I dunno! What do elves do?! Surely it must do something, else what’s the point?”
“Well, it’s a curiosity, innit? Don’t see elves these days, do ye?”
“Suppose not. Dunno why it’s so exciting, though.”
Jaskier shot a look at Geralt, who was clearly listening as well, his brow furrowed.
“Terribly sorry to interrupt, dears, but did I hear you mention an elf?” The villagers eyed him sceptically, and Jaskier waved the barmaid over to order another round of ale for both tables. They relaxed somewhat at that. “It’s just, I’ve never seen an elf!” he lied smoothly. “Sounds exciting! Where’s this party taking place? Will it be soon?”
“At the baron’s, of course. I think he plans to hold the party this week.” They looked Jaskier and Geralt over. “Why, you planning on being in town long?”
“Oh, who’s to say? Always ready to stay longer in order to have some fun!”
They grunted in response.
Jaskier downed his beer quickly and Geralt followed suit, giving Jaskier a quizzical look.
“Well, lovely chatting to you! Enjoy your ale!” Jaskier gave the strangers a wide smile, then gathered his things and set off for their room, with Geralt close behind.
Once their door closed behind them, Jaskier spun around to face the witcher.
“We have to go find out about this!”
“The baron?”
“The elf!”
“Hmm.”
“If what they said is true, then this baron is likely holding some innocent person prisoner!”
“Who’s to say they’re innocent?”
“Geralt!”
“I agree, it sounds unsavoury, but we’re here for a night’s rest, and to hopefully make some coin, before we keep going towards Kaer Morhen. It isn’t our business, Jaskier.”
“Well I’m making it our business!”
“Jaskier.”
“What if it were Ani?”
Geralt snorted. “It isn’t Ani. As if Eskel would let such a thing happen.”
“How will you face her this winter after letting one of her people be used and mistreated?” Jaskier tipped his chin up petulantly.
“Who’s going to tell her?” Geralt cocked an eyebrow at the bard.
“Geralt!”
The witcher sighed. “Do you have a plan, or do you think we’re just going to storm into this baron’s doubtlessly well-protected manor and stage a dramatic rescue?”
Jaskier scoffed. “Please, Geralt, I’m a noble. I’ll make a visit as the Viscount de Lettenhove and declare my interest in his rarity.”
“And then?”
“And then… and then, if I confirm he does indeed have a captured elf, we’ll sneak back in at night and break them out!”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that!”
“We won’t be doing anything of the sort at night.”
“Geralt!”
“It’s a stupid and dangerous idea, and you will be staying here, if we do anything at all.”
“Oh, and let you do the stupid and dangerous thing on your own?” Geralt glared at him. “No thank you, I think I will be coming too. I can provide a distraction if need be.”
Eskel woke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He’d been having a nightmare, someone in the dark, in the cold, crying out his name. He couldn’t see them, didn’t know who they were, but it filled him with dread. He gave up on sleep and set to sharpening his swords until daylight.
-
Later that day, dressed in his best finery, Jaskier approached the baron’s home. Geralt lurked outside the walls, hoping he’d be able to hear if things went south.
Jaskier charmed his way in the doors, complimenting the village as well as the baron’s home and furnishings. After the baron had given him a tour of his home and property, Jaskier turned to him.
“What a lovely estate, your lordship. Truly impressive. There’s just one thing I’m wildly curious about,” Jaskier said, a twinkle in his eye.
The baron puffed his chest out. “Oh, and what’s that?”
Jaskier leaned in conspiratorially. “I heard you have something quite rare indeed, hidden away here.”
“Oh, did you, now? Word travels fast. You’ll have to attend my party, then. You are hereby formally invited, in three days time—”
“Oh,” Jaskier pouted at the baron, “but I’m afraid I won’t be in town in three days time.”
“Leaving so soon?”
“Alas, I must keep on my way. I’m expected elsewhere, you see. Couldn’t I just have a wee peek? I’d hate to miss such an opportunity.” Jaskier batted his lashes.
“Well, I supposed it wouldn’t do any harm.”
Jaskier clapped his hands in delight and followed behind the baron as he made off across the manor.
They made their way down stone steps, the air growing chillier and damp as they went. When they reached the bottom, two cells came into view, one empty, one occupied by a figure slumped into the corner on the floor. Jaskier stifled a gasp at the colour of their hair. It looked just like Aniela’s, but there was no way… Jaskier turned the gasp into a cough, covering his mouth with a handkerchief and looking apologetically at the baron.
“Sensitive nose,” he said by way of excuse. He moved closer to the bars, trying to get a better look at the figure. “And it’s really…” he let himself trail off.
“An elf, yes,” the baron assured him.
“Huh!” Jaskier squinted through the dim light of the lantern on the wall. “And they’re… still alive?”
“Of course! Last I checked, anyways. Rather pathetic creature. I hope it at least lasts until the party.”
“Right! Of course. Rather a waste if it didn’t!”
The person was leaning against the wall and facing away from them, and hadn’t so much as twitched since they had entered. He could see one pointed ear poking out of their hair, but there was no way for Jaskier to get a look at their face. He clenched his teeth in frustration.
“Well, thank you ever so much for showing me! I think I’ve had enough of the chill air, however, so if we can go back up…”
Jaskier followed the baron out of the tiny dungeon, then drank tea with him in the drawing room until he was able to politely excuse himself.
When he made his way around the corner of the outside wall, he came upon Geralt who was kneeling in a light meditation. Jaskier squeezed his shoulder, rousing him, and hissed into his ear.
“I feel dirty, Geralt. The kind you can’t wash away with soap. Let’s get out of here and I’ll tell you everything I saw.”
Geralt grunted in agreement and they hurried away from the estate.
Back in their room at the inn, Jaskier described the buildings, guards and dungeon as best he could while Geralt listened intently. He drew a map in his notebook as he talked.
“I couldn’t get a good look at them, they were slumped into the corner, and I know it couldn’t be Ani, but they had the same hair, Geralt, like golden honey. It gave me an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. And they don’t seem well at all. We must get them out of there!”
Geralt sighed. “Alright. I’ll watch the guard’s movements until I can catch a break in their rotation, then head through the kitchens here, and go down to the dungeon when the coast is clear.” He pointed out his path on the map as he planned and explained. “You said there’s only one guard for the dungeons?”
“Yes, this isn’t a proper jail, just one kidnapped person in a holding cell. He’s likely set the guard just so that no-one tampers with his curiosity before he can show it off.” Jaskier’s face wrinkled in disgust.
“Alright. I’ll set off just before midnight.”
“We’ll set off just before midnight.”
“No.”
“Yes! I thought I broke you of your ‘I need no-one’ nonsense ages ago, Geralt! What if you need a distraction? What if something goes wrong?”
“What if you get us caught? What if you get hurt?”
“I’ll have you know that I can be very sneaky, Geralt. Do you know how many bedrooms—”
“You were murderously chased out of?”
“Those were the ones where I was caught! Do you know how many—”
“Alright,” Geralt cut him off, closing his eyes, brow furrowed as if in pain. “If you get us caught or get hurt, I will make you sorry myself.”
“Ooo, is that a promise?” Jaskier cooed, gaining a glare in response.
Eskel and his elven lover Aniela have been together for some years when an accident occurs…
See the Masterpost for more info, ch. 1 link & content/warnings. Masterpost here.
Ch. 2: Aniela has some dark thoughts, runs into a familiar face, and then an unfamiliar one…
-
Aniela awoke the next morning still exhausted. She lay in the bed, staring at the bare wooden ceiling, contemplating what to do. Part of her mind was screaming at herself that this was madness, to turn and run back to Eskel. But then what? If he still didn’t know her, what was she supposed to do? She’d never felt she deserved him. The last thing she was about to do was try to convince him to care for her, that she belonged at his side. She’d been overwhelmingly happy that he had felt that way, but part of her had always wondered when it would end, as surely it couldn’t last forever. It was too good to be true. And here she was, because it had been. So no, she couldn’t go back. She didn’t wish to die, but sometimes your fate was out of your hands. People died every day, she reasoned. Her day was coming. She could accept that. She remembered a beautiful forest they had stopped in in Lyria. Perhaps she could head towards it. It would be a peaceful place to rest until… well.
Her coin was low, and the thought of having to approach strangers to beg odd jobs in order to make more made her skin crawl. Besides, she would only have use for coin for a couple more days, she thought darkly. She could make what she had left stretch until then. She resolved herself to sleeping where she could, barns or meadows. The following night she crept into a barn after nightfall, making a bed in the hay. She was sore, and drained, but sleep wouldn’t come. She missed Eskel fiercely: it ached, like a hole in her heart, a pit in her stomach. But she had no way of finding him again, no idea how she would explain herself to him at this point if he still didn’t remember her, and no energy to figure it out. She was weak, and shaking, alone and painfully lonely. She wished for it to end. Not long now, she figured. She sobbed until it petered out to silent tears, eventually crying herself to sleep.
She travelled south for two more days, until she ran into Lambert when she was bartering for food in a market.
“Ani!” Lambert called happily, smiling at her through the crowd. She froze. She liked Eskel’s brother well enough. They had spent a few winters together at Kaer Morhen, and though he was loud and brash and foul-mouthed, he was kind and caring underneath it all, and quite funny, she’d found. But he would ask after Eskel, and she wouldn’t know what to say. She started to panic, her body gearing into fight or flight mode.
Lambert made his way quickly through the throng of people, coming up alongside his brother’s partner.
“Ani! A sight for sore eyes. What are you doing at this stall, looks like shit, you must feed my brother better than this? You certainly deserve better. Come on, let’s find something else.” He put his hand on her elbow to steer her, and she pulled away. He furrowed his brow at her. “Where is the fucker, anyways? He on a hunt?”
“I - I don’t know,” she stuttered out. “I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly, then darted away into the crowd.
“What? Hey, Ani!” He started after her. “Aniela!” As he was getting closer to catching up, a man ran straight into him and dropped his basket of produce, potatoes and onions rolling this way and that. Lambert tried to dash around him, but the man pulled at his clothing.
“Hey! Help me gather these up, would you?”
“Not my problem!” Lambert snarled. “I’m busy!” He pushed his way around the man, eyes scanning the crowd for Aniela’s bright hair. “Fuck! Where did she get to?”
He continued through the crowd, trying to catch sight or scent of her, but she seemed to have disappeared. Lambert cursed again under his breath. What the fuck was that about? Aniela had looked haunted, with dark crescents under her eyes. It reminded him of when he had first met her, when she had first started travelling with Eskel. She had been so tentative, curling in on herself like she was trying to disappear from view, her eyes looking sad and full of shadows, hardly saying a word to anyone. Over the years she’d spent at his brother’s side, Lambert had watched her slowly bloom. She’d stood up straighter, become livelier. The first time he’d heard her laugh he’d almost called a celebration in the keep, but knew the attention would have the opposite effect desired.
Her company seemed to have a similar effect on Eskel. He seemed to brighten and be more at ease, especially when the wolves ran into each-other out on the path. The pair were good for each-other. Aniela had become a part of their patchwork family, and as such was important to Lambert and the others. They enjoyed her company, and their wardrobes were better off for her care.
What had she meant, she didn’t know where Eskel was? Was she unsure about the hunt he was on? Lambert had a bad feeling in his gut, but he didn’t run into Aniela again, or see Eskel, before it was time to leave the town. He asked around about a broad, scarred witcher, but no-one seemed to have seen him, nor his bright-haired companion. Lambert didn’t know what else to do but to move on, hoping he would see them both soon at Kaer Morhen, if not on the way there.
-
Eskel continued on the path, making his way towards Kaer Morhen. His memory hadn’t returned to him. What he originally thought to be a lost day or two was starting to seem to be much more. Things seemed…different. Off. Styles of clothing didn’t seem quite the same as what he remembered. People seemed friendlier towards him than he remembered. How much had he forgotten? What was he missing?
Two nights after the first one he could remember, he had vivid dreams. He dreamt of gentle fingertips tracing his eyebrows, lashes, nose, scars, lips. Of gentle whispers in his ear. He woke feeling confused and muddled, with the unshakeable feeling that he’d lost something.
-
Five days after she left Eskel, Aniela was crossing through another town. She was worn out and quite weak, having been away from Eskel for so long. She guessed she had only two or three days left, if that, before Yennefer’s magical tether snapped, and her life was extinguished.
She’d spent some of her remaining meager coin on bread and was leaving the market when she stumbled on the uneven ground, losing her balance and falling to her hands and knees. A stranger reached out to try to help, grabbing her wrist, as well as her glamour bracelet by accident. When she tried to jerk away, her bracelet broke off in his hand, and she gasped. The stranger looked at the bracelet in his hand, then back to Aniela, his eyes widening when he saw her ears.
“An elf?!” he exclaimed.
She started to panic, trying to scramble up to her feet to run. The stranger grabbed her wrist again.
“Where you off to in such a rush? The baron would love to meet you!” His eyes glinted wickedly.
“Please, just let me go,” she begged.
He ignored her and pulled her to her feet.
“Please.” It came out a whisper. She pulled back against his grip, but she had no strength left to resist. He dragged her after him as he marched away from the market and towards the baron’s estate.
Eskel and his elven lover Aniela have been together for some years when an accident occurs…
In which Eskel forgets something important, and PTSD and self-confidence issues are a bitch.
Angst with a happy ending. Geraskier took over for a few pages, I have no control over them..
See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here. This is the longest chapter, as it was decided what was previously two chapters needed to be combined so things made sense to those who don’t live in my head, lol.
-
Aniela leaned up on her toes, hands resting on Eskel’s gambeson, to press a soft kiss to his lips. His hands rested on her waist, giving a light squeeze. She pulled back slightly to look up into his eyes, still leaning into him.
“Come back to me in one piece?” she asked softly.
“I’ll do my best,” he answered with a smile.
“You’d better.” She gave an answering smile.
“Stay safe while I’m gone.”
“I think I’ll stay in the room. There’s mending to be done, a bath to be taken, and I’m tired from the path.”
“Good. Don’t wait up for me, hmm?”
“I can’t promise that. You know I worry until you’re back.”
“I’ve fought many cockatrices before.”
“I know. Even so.”
“I’ll try to be quick, then.”
“Please do.”
He gave her a kiss on the forehead then turned and left their room at the inn, closing the door softly behind him.
The room was comfortable enough, and quite cozy with the small fire going. This was far from the first hunt Eskel had gone on, leaving her behind to wait: there had been too many to count at this point. And yet she couldn’t shake a sense of unease. Silly, she told herself. She was comfortable and safe here, and Eskel had been confident that the contract would be an easy one. Everything would be fine. He would likely be back before she even got into bed.
-
Eskel woke, confused and aching. He blinked his heavy lids open slowly, unsure of where he was. Dawn light was stabbing into his eyes, and he lifted a hand to shield them, wincing. Birds were calling and he was looking up at trees. He was camped out, then. Except when he slowly pushed his aching body up from the ground, his head pounding like he’d had too good a time with white gull the night before, he looked around to find no evidence of camp. No bedroll, no fire, no Scorpion.
He frowned. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was wearing all of his armour. His steel sword was still strapped to his back, and his silver sword, covered in dried black blood, was on the ground nearby. He must have fought something. A hit to the head, then. Hopefully he had taken down whatever it was he was fighting before passing out. He must have, he reasoned, as otherwise he wouldn’t have woken up at all. He grunted, pushing himself to stand, slowed by his aching body and throbbing head.
He started walking, hoping he was headed in the direction of the village that he had presumably taken a contract from. He did eventually find his way to the edge of the village. As he entered, a few people seemed to recognize him, nodding as he passed. One villager called out to him from a field.
“Oi, witcher!”
Eskel looked over.
“Took out the beast in the woods, then, did ya?”
Eskel nodded hesitantly. He didn’t remember, but he must have. He glanced around, gauging the size of the village from what he could see.
“Can you point me towards the inn?” he asked. It was likely to only have the one, being small, and he hoped he might have procured a room in it. Hopefully his memory would come back soon, but he wasn’t overly concerned. In a village this size it shouldn’t be hard to locate Scorpion and whomever had put out the contract. The farmer gave Eskel quick instructions and he headed on down the road.
When he got to the inn he was greeted warmly inside by the woman behind the bar.
“Took longer than ye thought, eh, witcher?”
“Hmm,” he responded. “I have a room?”
The barkeep nodded, a quizzical look on her face. “Aye, last door on the right.”
“Thank you,” Eskel replied, and headed towards the stairs at the back. He trudged up the stairs, down the hallway and opened the door that was indicated. As he walked through the door he saw a woman sitting on the edge of the bed, fretting at a piece of clothing. Honey-ginger hair fell in soft waves around her face and shoulders, and a pointed ear poked through it on the side facing him. What on the continent was an elf doing in his room?
When she saw him she jumped up, coming towards him. “Eskel! I’ve been so worried, are you alright?”
His hand had immediately gone to the steel sword on his back upon finding a stranger in his room.
“Who are you?” he asked gruffly. “What are you doing in my room?”
She stumbled a step back, wide eyes focused on his arm reaching for his sword. He heard her heart rate pick up. “Wh-what do you mean?”
He glanced around the room in confusion, wondering if there had been a mistake, but those were his saddlebags by the table, with the leather tooling Geralt had done a few winters ago decorating the fronts.
“What do you want?” he demanded. His head was throbbing and he just wanted to lie down somewhere relatively soft and quiet to wait for it to pass.
“Eskel,” the woman started, voice wobbling slightly, “do you not know me?”
“No,” he answered apprehensively, “should I?”
She gulped, pale-aqua eyes shining. “It’s… uhm… the inn was short of rooms, and so we were rooming together.”
He frowned at that. It sounded awfully improbable. And what woman would agree to room with a stranger, and a burly scarred witcher, at that?
“I’m sure you want to rest, so I’ll… I’ll get out of your hair.” She hurried about the room, stuffing items into a bag, then gave him a look he couldn’t parse as she came towards the door. “Goodbye, then,” she said, voice shaking.
She looked at him a moment longer before skirting around him and out the door. Her scent as she passed was a mix of lavender, upset and fear. He turned to watch her leave, baffled. She was obviously scared to be in his company. How it came about that they had shared a room, he couldn’t understand. Maybe after a bit of a nap, things would be clearer. Or maybe not. He wasn’t sure he cared at that point. He had a room, and a bed, and he was exhausted.
He closed the door, setting his armour and swords by the bed before dropping onto it. He was asleep almost immediately.
-
Aniela had had a short, fitful sleep. She’d stayed up late, waiting for Eskel to return. Eventually she had laid down, but her worried thoughts had kept her awake a while longer. She’d then tossed and turned, waking often from troubled dreams. When the sun had started to creep over the horizon and Eskel still hadn’t returned, she’d given up on trying to sleep and gotten dressed. She was fussing over a shirt she’d already mended when Eskel finally returned to their room. Relief flooded her as he entered the room looking relatively unharmed. She jumped up from her perch on the bed and stepped towards him.
“Eskel! I’ve been so worried, are you alright?” Her eyes searched his face and armour, checking for obvious damage. While he looked a little worse for wear, somewhat bloody and dirty, she couldn’t see any concerning gashes or tears. Her worry edged off a little more until he reached towards his swords and she froze.
“Who are you?” he asked gruffly. “What are you doing in my room?”
Watching someone reach for a weapon while looking at her set off flashbacks from the last day in her village. After years of mistreatment, being attacked solely for the crime of her birth, of being different. Called names, hit with stones, boots, hands, called slurs. She shook her head. Eskel loved her, he would never harm her. She willed her heart to settle its frantic beating, her mind to calm. What had he just said, though?
“Wh-what do you mean?”
She watched him look around the room in confusion and tried to understand what was going on.
“What do you want?” he demanded. She looked into his eyes and she felt fear take hold, shivering down her spine. His eyes held none of their usual warmth or care. He was looking at her with confusion, suspicion: as a stranger.
“Eskel,” she said, willing her voice steady, “do you not know me?”
“No,” he answered gruffly, eyes narrowed, “should I?”
She gulped. She didn’t know what had happened on his hunt. Had he hit his head? Did he have some form of amnesia? But wouldn’t he then be more confused and lost in general? He seemed like himself, it was only her that seemed to be the problem. Her memories were fighting to take over her thoughts, people shouting, throwing things, pushing, hitting… her heart was beating like a drum inside her chest. If he didn’t remember her… maybe it was best to leave it that way. She sometimes worried that she was a burden. Eskel hadn’t asked to be saddled with her and her issues: she’d fallen into his lap, and he’d been too kind to push her out. He’d saved her that day in her village, and had let her tag along with him, having nowhere else to go. Then her life had been linked to his, and he had no escape, no choice. It wasn’t fair to him. Her mind was clouded and panicked and screaming for her to run. He didn’t know her. He had no reason to trust her, let alone care for her. The logical part of her brain knew that Eskel would never hurt anyone without just cause, stranger or no, but when she had seen him reach for his swords, logic had fled.
“It’s… uhm… the inn was short of rooms, and so we were rooming together,” she fabricated. He frowned and she rushed on. “I’m sure you want to rest, so I’ll… I’ll get out of your hair.” She hurried about the room, stuffing her things into a bag. She snatched the glamour bracelet off the table and slipped it on as she left.
She looked at him on her way to the door, wondering if it was the last time she would see him. Taking in his beautiful golden eyes, strong jaw, full and soft lips…
“Goodbye, then.” She felt she might choke on the words as they passed her lips. She looked at him a moment longer before stepping around him and out the door. She hurried down the hallway and stairs and out of the inn, as if she could outrun her memories, or the look on Eskel’s face.
She sped through the village, not even registering her surroundings. As she walked, her mind whirled and fought with itself. She had left Eskel without confirming that he was unharmed. What if he had a hidden injury that needed attending to? What if his apparent memory loss got him into trouble? But what help was she really to him? She couldn’t fight monsters, like Lambert’s witcher lover. Didn’t bring in coin, like Geralt’s bard. She was only a worry and a burden. A drain on Eskel’s coin and energy. But he loved her, and she was abandoning him. And what was her plan? She would make it maybe a week, a week and a half at the most, being apart from Eskel. She would start getting weaker well before that, as Yennefer’s spell that tied her life to Eskel’s stretched thin: it would be maybe three days before her energy would start to flag. But she’d been living on borrowed time anyways. She should have died a few years back, it had just caught up with her. Nothing to be dramatic over. Everyone’s time came eventually.
She walked through the day, desperate to make it to the next village. She had nothing with her to camp out with, having only taken her clothing and personal items, no bedroll or blanket, and now having no witcher to protect her.
She made it into the next town late at night, handing over too much of the coin she kept for markets in order to procure a room. One more thing to remind her of how much she depended on Eskel. The remaining coin wouldn’t last long, and she didn’t have a plan. But she was exhausted, both from walking and from her panic. Making any sort of plan was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight she gratefully fell into the small bed, not even bothering to take off her clothes before wrapping the blanket around herself and passing out.
She woke sometime later, in the dark of night, screaming from a nightmare, alone. Without Eskel’s warmth and reassurance, back rubs and gentle words, it was a long while before she fell back asleep.
-
Eskel slept through until dawn the next day, waking with a muzzy head. He reached out to the space beside him, confused when he found it empty. As he blinked his eyes and his mind woke up, he wasn’t sure what he had been looking for, but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.
He ordered a bath from the innkeeper, and after bathing he pulled out fresh clothing from his pack. The first shirt he pulled out, however, didn’t appear to be his. Upon unrolling it, it seemed to be a woman’s blouse. He frowned at it in confusion. Did it belong to the woman that had been in his room? But how had her shirt made its way into his pack? Nothing about the encounter or the woman was sitting right with him, and it was giving him a headache trying to figure it out. Had she been going through his things? But how had she managed to put her shirt into his pack? It didn’t make sense. Not much did, at the moment.
As he shook it out to look at it, the faint smell of lavender met his nose. It felt comforting, which was further confusing. The woman had smelled of lavender, but he didn’t know her, and no-one else he knew used the scent. Lavender was meant to be calming, sure, but he didn’t have a personal connection to the scent. Not that he could remember, at least. So why did he feel warm and comforted by it? Why did his chest feel so tight? He drew in a shaky breath. He still couldn’t remember the fight he’d been contracted for, and he worried he was forgetting more than just that. He hoped he might run into one of his brothers on the path soon, if his memory didn’t return before then. He hoped it would: he felt uneasy.
When he went to the stables to get Scorpion, he was further confused and dismayed when the stablehand led him to a horse he didn’t recognize, a dun mare.
“Are you…sure, that this is my horse?” Eskel asked the stablehand sceptically, hoping it was some sort of mistake.
The stablehand looked at him quizzically. “Aye, sir, this is the one you brought to me two days ago.” They petted the horse’s nose affectionately. “She’s been a good girl, haven’t you, Acorn?”
He had never had a horse named Acorn. The horse, the woman in his room, nothing made sense. He was glad he was headed to Kaer Morhen. He hoped his brothers would be able to help him sort things out.
Tags: memory loss, mistreatment of elves, racism towards elves, misunderstanding, ptsd, flashbacks, found family, spell, thoughts on death, not quite suicidal thoughts but possibly adjacent, dungeon, kidnapping, missing, dreams, angst, angst with happy ending, hunt gone wrong, rescue mission, portals, caring Yennefer, caring Lambert, self esteem issues, low self esteem, doubting one’s worth, emotional hurt/whump, banter, c/o geraskier, honestly geraskier took over like a third of this
Summary: You were the first and only female Witcher.
You and Geralt had been together since you were teenagers, training and fighting alongside each other for decades. However, when Yennefer of Vengerberg showed up, he chose her.
Now, years later, you go back to Kaer Morhen for the winter and come face to face with Geralt of Rivia, forcing old feelings to resurface once again.
Slowly, you fluttered your eyes open, blinking away the fuzziness as you took in the scene around you.
Coen was sitting on the ground across the room, his head in his hands, the potions that he grabbed broken on the ground beside him. The few remaining Witchers were all standing around the room, their heads lowered.
Ciri was crying in Yennefer’s arms while Lambert paced the cafeteria, kicking any object in his path as he swore every word under the sun.
Then there was Jaskier, who was sitting on the ground beside you, hugging his knees to his chest as he cried softly, his face buried on top of his knees.
Suddenly, realisation hit you; they all thought you had died.
Summary: You were the first and only female Witcher.
You and Geralt had been together since you were teenagers, training and fighting alongside each other for decades. However, when Yennefer of Vengerberg showed up, he chose her.
Now, years later, you go back to Kaer Morhen for the winter and come face to face with Geralt of Rivia, forcing old feelings to resurface once again.
Summary: You were the first and only female Witcher.
You and Geralt had been together since you were teenagers, training and fighting alongside each other for decades. However, when Yennefer of Vengerberg showed up, he chose her.
Now, years later, you go back to Kaer Morhen for the winter and come face to face with Geralt of Rivia, forcing old feelings to resurface once again.
Slowly, you fluttered your eyes open, blinking away the fuzziness as you took in the scene around you.
Coen was sitting on the ground across the room, his head in his hands, the potions that he grabbed broken on the ground beside him. The few remaining Witchers were all standing around the room, their heads lowered.
Ciri was crying in Yennefer’s arms while Lambert paced the cafeteria, kicking any object in his path as he swore every word under the sun.
Then there was Jaskier, who was sitting on the ground beside you, hugging his knees to his chest as he cried softly, his face buried on top of his knees.
Suddenly, realisation hit you; they all thought you had died.
Holy shit, they thought you were dead.
Wait, were you?
You looked down at your body, but frowned in confusion because the stab wound was gone. It was completely gone… what the fuck?
You tried to move, but something was holding you and you quickly realised it was Geralt. His arms were wrapped around you, cradling your body to his chest.
“What-what happened?” You asked, your voice hoarse as you spoke.
Geralts entire body suddenly turned tense before he looked down at you in his arms, those golden eyes filled with so much sorrow and sadness as he blinked away the tears.
“Y/N?” He whispered, looking at you like he was staring at a ghost. “You’re… you’re alive.”
That seemed to catch everyone’s attention as they all looked over at you in shock, but your attention was purely focused on Geralt, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Slowly, he lifted one of his hands, cradling the side of your face gently as he brushed his thumb over your cheek.
“You’re alive.” He whispered again, unable to believe it.
You nodded, resting your hand over his.
“I’m here.” You reassured, trying to ease his pain. “You can’t rid of me that easily.”
Jaskier let out a laugh, but sounded more like a happy sob. You slowly sat up, Geralt helping as you looked around at the others.
“How?” You asked, turning back to Geralt who nodded towards someone across the room.
You followed his line of sight to find Yennefer standing beside Ciri, smiling softly at you.
Wait, she healed you? Yennefer had saved your life?
“You got your powers back.” You said, pointing out the obvious and she nodded, seemingly speechless. “Thank you.”
Ciri began to walk towards you hesitantly with each step, her eyes puffy from crying as she stared at you.
“I-I’m so sorry. This was all my fault-” The girl started to apologise before you cut her off.
“It wasn’t your fault, sweetie.”
You stood up, Geralt quickly standing too, his hands hovering behind you in case you fell, but you were fine. You were completely fine and couldn’t believe it.
“This was out of your control. It’s not on you.” You added, looking at the girl.
Ciri nodded, biting her lip as tears started to rise in her eyes before you took a step towards her, holding your arms out and she rushed forward and hugged you tightly.
“It’s okay.” You whispered, running your fingers through the girls hair. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Geralt stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the two of you, kissing the top of your head while he hugged you both.
Eventually, Ciri stopped crying and you pulled away, giving the girl a gentle smile before you looked around at the others, spotting Lambert standing off to the side, fiercely wiping the tears from his eyes.
“Is that emotion I see, Lambert? I didn’t know you were capable of such thing.” You teased causing him to shake his head as everyone chuckled.
“Fuck off, I just had sweat in my eyes.” He responded with a laugh, but you could see the smile forming on his face as he looked over at you. “It’s good to see you breathing though.”
“And make sure you stay that way, alright? I cannot possible go through something like that again.” Jaskier said dramatically.
“It would’ve made one great song through, right?” You asked, causing Jaskier to laugh despite the tears in his eyes.
“I mean, I may or may not have been working on the lyrics in my head while mourning your very traumatic death, but-”
“Jaskier, shut up.” You chuckled, walking over to him and pulling him into a hug.
“You are okay, though, right?” Jaskier asked, pulling away as he looked you up and down.
You smiled, “I’m perfectly fine. Thanks to Yennefer.” You said, glancing over at the mage with a grateful nod.
Never thought you’d see the day where you would be grateful for Yennefer’s presence, yet here you were. Although, that did not make up for what she did though.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N. We all thought we had lost you too.” Vesemir said, speaking up for the first time.
You looked over at the older man before you glanced around at the carnage left over from the fight. The bodies of your fellow Witchers that didn’t make it, lying dead on the ground.
Geralt walked back over to you as you stared at their bodies before he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.
“We’ll give them a proper send off in the morning. I think we all need some rest.” He said, kissing your forehead as he held you tightly.
-
That night, you laid in bed facing Geralt who was running his fingers through your hair gently as he stared at you, like he was still trying to reassure himself that you were alive.
“I’m okay.” You whispered, lifting your hand and resting it over his bare chest.
“Hmm.”
“Geralt.” You sighed, looking at him, but he refused to look you in the eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?”
“It was.” He muttered softly.
“It wasn’t.”
“It was. You died, Y/N.”
“Yeah, well, death doesn’t stick with me.” You said, trying to lighten the mood, but Geralt just glared at you.
“I’m being serious.”
“Yeah? So am I. It wasn’t your fault and I am not letting you shoulder the blame for this.” You said, causing him to lift his head, those golden eyes locking with yours.
“I nearly lost you.” He whispered, his voice filled with such raw emotion.
“I’m still here.” You reassured, shuffling closer to him as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into him. “I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere.”
You felt Geralt nod as he held you, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as you laid in bed listening to the others heartbeat.
“Ciri and I need to keep moving.” He eventually said, breaking the silence. “The demon, the Wild Hunt, she’s marked for something and it doesn’t end there. If mages and royals find out she’s still alive and what she’s capable of… they won’t stop coming for her.”
“Then we leave.” You declared, tilting your head up to look at him. “We keep moving and we keep her safe.”
Geralt nodded, relief washing over him with your answer before the bedroom door suddenly opened and you both looked across the room to find Ciri hesitantly stepping into the room, hugging a pillow to her chest.
“I-I’m sorry. Can… can I sleep here tonight?” She whispered, her trembling voice sounding so scared as she looked between you and Geralt.
“Of course.” Geralt answered without hesitation.
You sat up, shuffling over, making room for her between you and Geralt as you waved her over.
“I’m sorry.” She apologised, looking guilty as she crawled into the gap between the two of you.
“You have nothing to apologise for.” You said gently, laying back down as you looked over at her, smiling softly. “Try and get some sleep.”
Ciri nodded, curling up in a ball and closing her eyes as Geralt looked over at you and mouthed ‘thank you’ while nodding at Ciri.
'Of course.’ You mouthed back, before you blew out the candle and tried to sleep.
-
Trying to sleep turned out to be impossible, but Ciri had managed to fall asleep, so you just laid there, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart.
You knew Geralt was still awake and he probably knew you were still awake too, but neither of you acknowledged that, not wanting to risk waking the girl. She had been through so much, she deserved at least one good nights sleep.
So, the two of you just laid there until the sun started to rise.
Once the fallen Witchers were laid to rest and the keep was cleaned of most the carnage, it was close to nightfall again. The others all disappeared off to their rooms to try and get some sleep after no doubt getting none last night.
Slowly, you walked down the corridor, but stopped when you heard Geralts voice coming the cafeteria.
“You’re whole again.”
You stepped through the open door to find him and Yennefer standing in the middle of the room together, nobody else inside.
“I felt it come back when I…”
“When you sacrificed yourself for Ciri.” Geralt said, finishing the sentence for her.
“A sacrifice I’d make again. In a heartbeat.” She responded, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.
You sighed, leaning against the doorway, waiting to see how this would play out. Fearing that Geralt was going to choose her, again.
“I don’t forgive you, Yennefer.”
“I know I’ve hurt you. And I hurt, Y/N. And I’m so sorry for it.” She said softly, surprising you a little.
Geralt nodded, “use your knowledge of magic to train the girl. You’re the only person who’s helped her control her powers.”
“As if I’d trust anyone else with her.”
“Villentretenmerth told us we were made for each other. Destined for each other. And that nothing would come of it because destiny alone isn’t sufficient. Something more is needed.” Geralt started to say before he paused, seeming to gather his thoughts.
“But, there is nothing more, is there?” She asked softly, already knowing the answer as Geralt shook his head. “You have Y/N. I don’t want to get in the way of that, not again. If she’s okay with me helping Ciri, I will stay and help.”
“Thank you.” Geralt said sincerely.
He rested his hand on her shoulder as she smiled at him before walking out the building where Ciri was, leaning against the railing outside in the snow.
You didn’t move from where you stood, your arms crossed over your chest.
“You don’t need to hide in the shadows.” Geralt suddenly called out, slowly turning to face you.
Right, he was a Witcher too. He probably knew you were watching the entire time.
“You’re made for each other… destined for each other or whatever. You sure this is what you really want?” You asked, stepping into the room. “I mean, look at me and then look at her and… fuck, Geralt, I know I don’t stand a chance against her and now she has her powers back too and-”
You didn’t get to finish what you were saying before Geralt marched over to you, lifting his hand and cupping the side of your face before pressing his lips to yours, silencing you instantly as he kissed you.
Your lips fitted together perfectly as you melted into his kiss, his other hand shifting to your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.
“I choose you, Y/N.” He whispered against your lips.
The two of you pulled away as Geralt rested his forehead against yours, brushing his thumb across your cheek gently as he continued to talk.
“It’s always you. I love you, little one. I love you so much.”
You lifted your hand, resting your index finger under his chin, tilting his head up, those beautiful golden eyes locking with yours before you leant forward and kissed him.
“I love you, Geralt."
He looked down at you through the hair covering his face as you brushed it behind his ears. He smiled softly at you before taking your hand with his, lacing your fingers together as the two of you walked outside where Yennefer and Ciri were.
Ciri glanced over at the two of you, giving you a smile from where she was sitting, dangling her legs over the edge of the bridge while Yennefer sat beside her, looking over at you almost nervously.
You gave the mage a reassuring nod, trying to silently tell her that two of you were okay and she seemed to get the message as the tension realised from her shoulders and she smiled gratefully at you.
"I believe I know what Voleth Meir wanted from you.” Geralt suddenly said, leaning against the railing of the bridge as he looked down at Ciri.
“What?”
“She’s been here since the Conjunction. We knew that. We’ve always assumed she was from another sphere.”
“Is that where I portalled us? Another sphere?” She asked.
“Those monoliths that you shatter, the ones that pull new species of monster through every time you scream, those could be gateways to other spheres.” Geralt explained as you leant against the railing beside him, taking in the view of the snowing mountains around the keep.
“My scream woke Voleth Meir.” Ciri said in realisation and Geralt nodded. “That’s why she wanted me.”
“She wanted to go home. You were the key to her future. What I can’t figure out, though, is when did Nilfgaard realise that you were the key to theirs? They knew before anyone else. How do they know the truth about you, Ciri?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“That’s okay. We’ll work it out, right?” You said, looking over at Geralt and Yennefer who both nodded. “We’ll leave here, head out west and see where the Path takes us.”
“I like the sound of that.” Ciri agreed happily causing Geralt to smile with relief as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.
“Then that is exactly what we’ll do.” Geralt responded.
“Do you guys have room for one more travelling companion? Perhaps a humbled bard?”
You chuckled softly as you looked to you right to find Jaskier walking out the building, holding his arms out, awaiting an answer.
“No.” Geralt responded at the same time you, Yennefer and Ciri all said, “yes.”
“Three against one. Majority rules.” Jaskier quickly said, walking towards the group with a grin. “Sorry Geralt, looks like you’ll have to get used to my singing again.”
“Hmm.” Geralt grunted causing you all to start laughing.
“Oh, and I can now be of more use too. As you’re dear lady had pointed out earlier, I am now a man with muscle. I can lift heavy things… well not too heavy and it depends on what I’m wearing too because-"
"You pointed out his muscles?” Geralt asked, raising his eyebrows at you.
“Oh, please. I was dying, I don’t even remember saying it. But, don’t worry they’re nothing compared to your muscles.” You said, squeezing the bicep of his arm that was still wrapped around your shoulder.
“Okay, rude.” Jaskier responded, pointing at you. “But, he does have fairly bloated biceps though, so I guess that’s fair."
Everyone lost it laughing and nodded in agreement causing Geralt to roll his eyes with a smile.
Life as Witcher was never meant to be good. You were just meant to kill monsters until eventually one killed you. Witchers weren’t meant to have a whole life for themselves, they were meant to feel or have emotions. Their lives weren’t meant to be good. Everyone knew that.
But, as you looked around at the group, watching them all laugh and joke with each other, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, because, yeah, this was a good life and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
This story will be put on hold for the time being until Season 3 gets released… which might be a while, but I promise, I will continue y/n and Geralts story in the new season.
I’d just like to quickly thank you all for your continuous support. I was absolutely blown away by the response to this fic, thank you so much!
Until next time, stay safe guys and have a great day xx
