Hi all. Here be my Masterlist! I write Henry Cavill + characters fanfiction and requests are CLOSED. Feel free to contact me - and don’t be alarmed when I reach out to you through my primary blog (https://imneonpanda.tumblr.com/).
Stories marked with an * are NSFW or graphic - read the keywords and read the warnings if you feel uncomfortable with certain content.
[ Read, like, comment but don’t steal! If you want to use my art for your fics, please send me a message❤️]
About me: 29, female, Netherlands. Bisexual, in a relationship and happy to indulge in vanilla fetishes. I answered a few questions, and here some more.
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Drabbles & One-shots:
Masterlist of Fluff
Disclaimer: 13+ Fluff, bit of strong language, minor reference to smut
Masterlist of Smut
Disclaimer: 18+ NSFW
Masterlist of Angst
Disclaimer: 18+ NSFW, includes graphic scenes
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Long stories:
Tea for Two* - Masterlist (Henry Cavill x OC - finished)
During her usual morning hike in the LA hills an average girl named Lisa meets a pair of starry eyes. A story of hiking, cups of tea and two sweet dorks trying to make it work.
Warnings: NSFW, slight bit of angst, smut, kink, unprotected sex, but also lots of cute fluff.
Word count: 100k +
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The Girl Next Door* - Masterlist (Henry Cavill x OC - finished)
Henry is stuck in the countryside as COVID-19 wreaks havoc in the world, leaving him with little else left to do but getting to know his spunky next door neighbour, Lizz.
Warnings: NSFW, smut, fluff, alcohol use
Word count: 20k+
Genre: Quirky romcom
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Good Girl* - Masterlist (August Walker x reader - finished)
Ignorance is a bliss, but what if you are just not willing to shut your eyes? You are a young escort who is dragged down into the abyss of big city crime, all the while also trying to find out: who is this Mr. Walker?
Warnings: NSFW, extremely graphic scenes (not for the faint of heart!), smut, strong language and August being an actual, feeling, human-being. *No daddy-kink*
Word count: 84k+
Genre: Slow burn sexy thriller
The marriage pact - Masterlist (Henry Cavill x OC Alice - finished)
Sometimes things work out, sometimes they don’t. The clock is starting to tick and 37-year old Alice just thinks that there is no good cake left for her - a feeling that she apparently shares with an unlikely ally.
Warnings: PG13, the fluffiest fluff (no smut)
Word count: 42k+
Genre: Romcom
The Monster’s Lair* - Masterlist (Vampire!Henry x Belle - finished)
An angsty adult fairytale, Beauty and the Beast AU.
A Devil’s Duet* (August Walker x OC Anna - August Walker is about to turn the world upside down. But he forgot about just one little detail. A devilish little detail. - finished)
Short Series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
The Accidental Family* - Masterlist (Henry Cavill x OFC - finished)
After a motorcycle accident, Henry suddenly finds himself living the life he always dreamed of. There’s only one small hitch; he can’t remember how he got here.
Warnings: Memory loss - fluff - mild smut - mild angst and loads of domestic fluff.
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Mood blurbs:
Blue shores | Orange glow | White buzz | Green tea | Cinnamon spice | London red | Green fingers | August’s aquamarine | Black Beauty | Goldfinger | Pride&Prejudice | Black sails | Healing waters | White Himbos | The Blue Room | Scheherazade | Ocean Heart | Professor, professor! | Happy Henners | Hmm.. | The Monster’s Lair | Nighthunter | Kill your darlings | Boar blood | ‘Atta girl | From Paris with Love | About wolves and wenches | Sidequest | Yennefer’s eyes | Flaming bandits | Crimson & Black | Femme Fatale | Long Live The King | Novigrad | Roach | Ciri | Sugar Baby | August | Mellon nîn | My Angel | Cedric | Dettlaff | Mountain Bear | Walker | Zireael | Characters in suits | Soft!August | Biker Henry |
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Digital art:
The Wolfpack | The bathtub | The Wolf and The Bard | Geralt (face-study) | Henry + Kal (face-study) | August rough brush | Melot
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GIF sets:
Geralt in the green woods | Geralt the silver haired | Geralt picking flowers
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Wolfie’s Fic Recs
mob!Henry | Period Snacks | Short Sweets | dark!Stuff | The Mysterious and Fantastical | Winter Holiday Fics | dad!fics | Grand Library of Kink Fics | Mission Impossible AU fics | Anguish and Angst | Longshots: Syverson | Henry Multi Chapters |
To the various nonnies who’ve asked if I’m still around: Yes, I am!
I’m currently working on a original piece of fiction (e.g. something that’ll be a book someday), so my Henry-writings are on the backburner for now. I’m still here though, and I love hearing from you lovely beans ❤
Author’s note: A little drabble inspired by me and my boyfriend getting our Christmas tree yesterday. We’re a little early this year, but being in another lockdown, I convinced my boyfriend that a few weeks earlier wouldn’t hurt. And goodness do I love anything Christmas! I hope you do too ❤
Warnings: fluff, some horniness
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‘It’s not gonna fit!’ I yelped, flailing my arms out to stop the Christmas tree from squashing me into the hallway wall. Behind the large green mass of piney scent I could hear Henry’s iconic little chuckle.
‘That’s what she..’
‘HEN!’
‘Okay hold on love. Just lead it into the corner--yes--NO hold!’
The tree scraped and fought its way through the narrow corridor, making it near impossible to guide as Henry’s mighty arms just kept pushing the thing on. Nasty branches poked and stabbed in places where I had preferred they hadn’t.
‘STOP! Henry!’
‘Love you gotta..’
‘HEN!’
Finally the tree stopped moving and a large hand brushed through, pushing aside some branches so he could see me. ‘What?’ He raised an innocent eyebrow. I sighed with exasperation.
‘It’s not gonna fit!’
Henry smirked. ‘I’ve managed to get bigger inside.’
‘Well, that’s what he said.’
He chuckled in disbelief. ‘Is that cheeky talk young lady? It’s that some tree is in the way. Otherwise --’
I rolled my eyes, then decided to play along, moaning playfully. ‘Oh Henry! It’s soooo BIG! It will --’ I writhed against the doorpost behind me, just far enough away so he couldn’t reach me. ‘..never fit!’
‘Love..! The neighbour--’ His hand disappeared and a moment later I heard the front door being shut. Oh damn I forgot about that! Smirking, I waited for the next thing to happen. Would he try to get this darn monstrosity of a tree in the living room, or would he just plow it down to get to me? I cooed softly, luring him in.
‘You okay there babe?’ I asked. Henry muttered, softly scolding himself for living in a Mews-home with a hallway “made for hobbits”. Finally the tree started moving and I could not help but laugh as I watched a scene unfold of Henry trying to push his large body through a very stubborn mass of spiky branches that slapped and scratched where-ever they could.
‘Need some help?’ I pulled a branch away so I could see his face as it stood there all squashed and awkward.
‘Darn this tree.’ He muttered, pushing even harder, but only making the whole tree move into an even more awkward position. It looked quite hilarious with his limbs half sticking through, face squashed between two particularly stubborn branches.
‘Is it too big honey?’
Henry shot me a warning glance.
‘Need me to fetch some lube maybe?’
‘Sweetheart..’
I sniffled, biting my lip. ‘Okay, okay.’ Stepping forward, I used all my not-so-mighty power to pull some more branches aside.
This was all it took, along with some cracking branches, for Henry to make his way to my side of the tree. It was still very much stuck in the middle of the hallway, but at least he had escaped. Henry gasped, looking back at the tree like it had just totally betrayed him.
‘You oka--?’
Before I could reach out a hand he was already on me, cold lips fighting me back into the wall. This time there was no escaping. Not with a tree blocking the exit anyway. I hummed into his kiss, challenging him a little more.
‘So-mm-jealous of a tree now hmm? Just because I think it’s ...mmm...big?’
He leaned back for just a moment, then shrugged his boulder-like shoulders. ‘Well, might have overshot it with the tree a touch. But I’ve got something else that’s big...’ He put both hands around me, his face a mixture of playful, eager, arousal.
I played along. ‘Mmm?’
He leaned back in close, lips hovering over mine, teasing. ‘And I’m quite sure..’
‘What?’ I looked into the blurry haze of his lustful eyes, smiling mischievously.
‘..might have to check though..’
‘Ooh..!’ My smile grew as well.
‘..that it will fit.’ He whispered, kissing me.This time more slowly.
Outside London roared in all its endless zooming of cars and busses, engines and people. But inside it was just us. Together, warm and cosy.
Just finished “Good Girl” and…. Wow. There’s so many beautiful, glorious, tragic aspects I could write ESSAYS on…but the way you captured August as such a deep, loving, hurting, dynamic character that he is, is something that I am so grateful for. I’ve read SO many fics, and it’s only every once in a blue moon I’ve been able to find one that speaks to me on such a soul crushing level. You’ve managed to put into words the soul crushing beauty that I’ve seen in this character, and have never been able to find.
The tragedy, the beauty, the absolute longing and lust that filled my chest on the rollercoaster ride of this story is too much for me to even adequately put into words. God help august walker, the man that loved so wholly and so deeply that he was left with battle scars and a heart so full of emptiness. You made him human, and brought him to life so vividly, I’ve literally been reduced to tears from the ending.
Part of me wants to be angry, to scream and shout and burn the world like august, because really, why won’t the world let this angel of a man be happy? But something about way that you articulated the entire story told me in my heart that this was how it was going to end. So beautifully, so tragically, so gruesomely.
You truly are one of the most eloquent and beautiful writers that I have had the pleasure of reading from and I cannot thank you enough for the absolute rollercoaster ride and emotional turmoil that your writing has put me through, because as tragic and as heart breaking as it is, it was so, so beautiful.
Nonnie, thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm out here blinking a little tear away because of your lovely inbox message ❤❤
I loved this movie as a kid, so it only felt (super)natural to make a Henry-cast version. Practical Magic by me. [Henry x Sally Owens]
Loving the witchy vibes? Bring forth my smutty hoes, for this one’s pure witchy, breeding-kinka-liciousness. Break the Circle by @blakerogue [demon!August x witch!reader]
And when speaking devils & demons, August’s got all it takes. This fic by our own lovely demon of lust, @littlefreya, brings you a beautiful, haunting monster that is here to take it all (also..does anyone else get Phantom of the Opera vibes or is it just me?😮 ) [devil!August x OFC]
Are your thighs quivering yet? This one’s giving you a whole new meaning to “la petite mort”. Red Night by @littlefreya [vampire!Sherlock x reader]
Dressing Up Fun
The Addams Family *snapsnap* tududu *snapsnap* tududu-tududu-tududu. Dad!Henry, your daughter and you dress up for your Halloween party. By @thecavillchronicles [Dad!Henry x reader]
More Addams Family romance, because who can be more sultry as Gomez than our darlin’ August? Fright Night by @supersweetstache [August Walker x reader]
“It’ll be good for us, plus it’s not like I can get you anymore pregnant,” he says with a gruff chuckle. 😳 Gimme all this cheeky, food making fluff, please! Monster Mash by @its--fandom--darling [Dad!Henry x reader]
Let’s agree we’ll call ‘getting it on’, ‘getting spooky’ in the Month of October, mkay? Surprising Henry with a sexy costume by @okay-klepto [Henry Cavill x reader]
Just because he doesn’t wear a knight’s armour, doesn’t mean he can’t be one. Haunted Houses is cute fluffy yearning stuff by @littlefreya [Henry Cavill x OFC]
Naughty kitten, dirty kitten, little tease of.. Henry Cavill Untamed by @maggotzombie [Henry Cavill x reader]
Combining two great things: Halloween and karaoke night. What could possibly top THAT?! Sing Your Heart Out by @thelastsock [Henry Cavill x reader]
A short little list of what it’d be like if Sy would get babysit duty of his nieces and nephews on Halloween night. Trick or Treating by @gearhead66 [Sy]
Ghosts & Werewolves
Silly smut seems to go hand in hand with spooktober. So are you ready for some invisible schlong? My Boo by @the-soot-sprite [Mike x reader]
A crazy cool haunted house vibe, a smidge of good ol’ horror movie panic, and a werewolve with a perfectly handsome moustache. I absolutely devoured this fic by @chuuulip. Another Earth [August Walker x reader]
Picture edits:
Vampire august by @rmtndew
Werewolf henry by @ajossi-art
Dad!Henry carving pumpkins by @eastwesthomeisbest
Vampire Charles by @demivampirew
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🔥 Please add your own recommendations in the comments and reposts! The more fics, the merrier! 🔥 Artworks in this post by me 🥰
1139 words - A quick cute Henry Cavill x reader drabble
Christmas night, Marianne and Colin Cavill’s backyard, 23.12pm.
‘Have you ever thought of what it would be like if we were together?’ Henry asked. The both of you sat huddled together on a bench, watching the stars.
‘Us?’ You quirked an eyebrow, but kept your gaze locked on an airplane that was flying overhead. As a child you always thought those blinking, moving lights were falling stars. But boy had you been wrong. Like many things in life, the magic was now long gone.
Henry shifted his weight and the iron bench wobbled. ‘Mhm.’
You shot him a curious look. His lips had curled up slightly and even without Marianne’s fairy lights, you could have probably seen the mischievous little sparkle in his eyes. Ah, he was jesting. You sniffled.
‘Oh sure, of course. We’d have like.. super nerdy babies who read fantasy novels to escape the dreadful existence of math class. And we’d have a whole lot of hobby rooms..and animals. Mm what a life!’ You let your wandering eyes roam back to Henry. His mirthful look had melted away. He nodded quietly before quickly looking back up at the stars.
‘Yea. Kids..hmm?’
You frowned, but decided against asking what was up. Perhaps it was the break-up with his last beau. Like so many before, the relationship had crashed and burned just before christmas. And so Henry had asked you to tag along to his parent’s Christmas dinner instead. And here you were. Again. Like so many Christmases before this one.
Henry continued: ‘But are you seeing anyone?’
‘Me? Oh you know me. I’m more of a summer lover kinda gal. The winter’s no good time for finding hot guys to be disappointed by. Can’t even see their abs in those thick ol’ sweaters.’
‘Never thought you an ab kinda girl.’
‘Oh you’d be surprised Cavill.’
‘Neill didn’t have abs though.’
You rolled your eyes and gave Henry a look. He laughed, winking terribly.
‘Oh you know..he just kept it a secret from the rest of the world. Safely hidden beneath a comfy little belly.’ You shrugged.
‘I see.’ Henry yawned and stretched his arms up overhead, one arm making its way to looping around your shoulder. You grinned.
‘Veryyy smooth Hen.’
‘You know me. I’m smoothness!’
You offered him a look, but all he did was shrug. ‘Come on, can’t I keep you a little warm?’
‘Hey! It was your idea to go outside, mister.’
‘Yep..’ He nodded and turned his head in your direction to follow the noises inside. Some of the other family members were probably heading to bed now. You turned your head too, curious to see what attracted his attention.
‘Want to go back?’ You asked, turning back to face him, only to realise how close he’d gotten. With a quick blink you worked through what was happening. His warm breath fanned over your face and his arm tugged you nearer.
He didn’t kiss you though. He just closed his eyes and sat back a bit, shaking his head. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘W-w..’ You looked at him with large eyes. Had he just almost kissed you? Buddy Henry? Henners? The guy you’d called your friend for years? You stood up and tugged your jacket straight, cheeks running hot.
‘What was that?’ You asked, but Henry didn’t respond. He sucked in his lips, before looking away in agony.
‘I’m sorry.’ He mumbled.
You looked at him a moment longer, before you let your eyes roam to the lit windows of the main house. Marianne stood in the kitchen, turning down the stove where a stew had been brewing all day. Behind her Colin stepped in, bathrobe on, ready for bed. With an intimate little flick of his hand he tucked some of her hair behind her ear, lips kissing her on the cheek. She smiled and reciprocated, her lips finding his. Gods what a sweet couple they were.
Henry also stood, shoulders drooping with guilt. You looked back at him, realising that you were in a very confusing situation right now.
‘Hey, I’m so sorry. That was..that was uncalled for. I should’ve..’
You blinked at him, but couldn’t find the words. In fact you probably looked rather perplexed. With raised eyebrows you let out a little puff of air. ‘You like me?’
Henry frowned. ‘Ye-- hey of course I like you. We’d not be friends if..-’
‘You like me-like me? As in…’ You stepped towards him and just hugged him. Henry hugged back. You weren’t sure if this was an appropriate moment for a hug, but it felt right. Especially with Henry’s arms looping around you, and his eyes for a moment not piercing into you.
From within the hug you tried to get your mind working. You felt like you were thinking three thousand miles an hour, and not at all. Heat had spread all over your cheeks and your fingers tingled.
‘Holy shit.’ You muttered, voice muffled by his thick scarf.
‘Is that a good holy shit?’ He asked, continuing to hug you.
You laughed, shaking your head. ‘I don’t know. I--’ You leaned back and looked at him, still very much confused. He was so close, so warm, so beautiful. So...argh, no, this could not be happening. This was..bizarre! This was.. you studied his face for another moment.
‘You okay?’ He asked, holding onto you lightly as he watched you have a tiny existential crisis.
‘Okay, okay. You can kiss me now.’ You nodded, shaking yourself from being completely perplexed.
‘Sure..?’ Henry raised an eyebrow at your fully focused gaze. You were all but staring at every hair, dimple and pore on his face. He probably thought you a complete looney! A silly, silly --
He leaned in and placed his lips on yours.
Oh.
Oh, that’s nice.
That’s warm and soft and..You closed your eyes. The cognac..the …
He leaned back again and looked at you expectantly.
‘Are you sure you’re..--?’
You crashed your lips back to his before he could continue. He chuckled into your kiss.
‘Okay okay.’ He laughed and used his large warm hands - even without gloves - to cup your face. You looked back into his eyes.
‘Oh I’m a bad kisser huh?’ You said, feeling your heart drop. Neill once said that and the idea never left your mind since.
‘What? No..I..’ Henry sighed and pressed his lips to yours again. This time even more tenderly, more calmly.
All of a sudden all the thoughts just evaporated and there was only just Henry. Not even the airplanes up above, or the freakish cold. It was just Henry now.
You sighed as he released the kiss.
‘I don’t really have abs at the moment though.’ He said, eyes twinkling with mirth.
‘Bother.’ You chuckled, throwing your arms around his shoulders and kissing him again.
❤ ❤ ❤ I’ve been in this special little hell(site) that is Tumblr for some time now. And logging in to find this just made me giggle like a little schoolgirl. 1500 FOLLOWERS??!!!! 🙀
Summary: Evil is looming and old memories are blooming in the keep of Kaer Morhen.
Word count: 2005 (7 min read)
Disclaimer: old and brittle Jaskier, dementia, blood and gore, a melancholic Geralt (but also a touch of fluff stuff)
Author’s note: Sorry for being MIA my loves! Life’s been crazy busy with long workdays and social events (FINALLY). So writing was kinda pushed on the backburner. Hope you enjoy this one ❤
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‘Remember that time in Velen, Geralt?’ Jaskier’s voice sounded brittle with age.
Geralt looked up at Jaskier. His friend no longer talked as much like he used to. With thoughtful blue eyes the bard looked out over the vines that outstretched the autumnal valley of Corvo Bianco. Their shared home for some time now.
Geralt sighed.
‘Which time is that? The one when I saved your ass from the Duchess?’
Jaskier squinted, as if thinking. ‘No no. The time..The..’ He started to fling about his hands as if searching for words. ‘The one time I had nearly eloped with the butcher’s daughter, remember that? The one in..’
‘You mean the time you told me you’d be a father?’
‘Yes..’ Jaskier's voice quieted. ‘Oh Geralt!’
‘What’s that, Jaskier?’
Jaskier remained silent until yet another of his bloody coughs came up. With a bony hand he raised a kerchief to catch the red stains that had parted from his lungs.
Geralt gritted his teeth. It was all going so fast all of a sudden. His lifelong friend whom he had travelled up and down the Trail with, would soon be no more. Jaskier’s hair had gone grey years ago. And his once nimble fingers no longer played the songs they used to. Which, for a time, had been pleasant, Geralt had to admit that.
Looking at the slumped form that was his friend, the Witcher felt his heart crumple with fear. He didn’t like goodbye’s. Never had. But he knew that with the falling leaves and the arrival of winter, the days were growing shorter for his friend, too.
It felt too soon.
‘I’m a father.’ Jaskier let the bloodied kerchief fall to his lap. ‘Ha..’ Jaskier’s lips turned into a little smile. ‘She must be nearly grown now.’
Geralt tried to smile along. The unsteady motion of his heart was however difficult to contain. Jaskier had been with his daughter for years, but the way he spoke of her made it feel like his friend could no longer remember. Like he couldn’t remember many things now.
‘Well, let's hope she’s not as talented at getting herself into trouble as her father was.’
Jaskier sucked in his lips, breathing deeply. His blue eyes had watered up as he watched two swallows duck down from the trees. They remained low, meaning cooler weather or perhaps even a storm would come.
‘I should’ve been there for her.’ Jaskier said, sitting back up stiffly.
‘Jaskier..’
‘No Geralt. I mean even you. In fact YOU. You’ve raised a kid. And what type of vivacious, vibrant young woman that has become!’
It made Geralt think. As the day came to an end, the bugs drew out from their sanctuaries, though today they didn’t fly high like usual. Geralt’s eyes followed the swirls and dives of the swallows as they feasted on their bounty. Swallows.. Hmm.. Ciri. Cirilla. Zireael. His little swallow. He wasn’t sure what to say in that moment as his friend slowly pushed himself up from the stone bench they’d been sitting on. With cracking bones Jaskier hoisted himself up by his walking stick. Should he tell Jaskier he had been a good father? Geralt couldn’t know. He had not been there at that time. Not for many years. He had not even met Jaskier’s daughter.
In a swift move Geralt stood up as well, arm reaching out to support Jaskier where he could. And then yes..Ciri. Watching the swallows up above, he thought of his own adoptive daughter. He had not heard of Ciri in some years now, either. Nor had he heard of Yen.
Looking at Jaskier beside him, he wondered how well he’d do all alone.
‘Well Jaskier. We both are fathers. And we have tried our best every day.’
Jaskier looked up, blue eyes lighting up with curiosity. ‘Me? Goodness Geralt..-’ Jaskier halted as his body started to rack up another bloody cough. The white kerchief was hit with a dark red gob of spit, before it was duly returned to a pocket.
Geralt watched and silently inhaled the scent. The scent of looming death. As if it would help, he held onto Jaskier a little more tightly.
Jaskier sighed wearily and tapped at Geralt’s paw, that was just about death gripping his arm. ‘Geralt..Geralt..Promise me one thing Geralt.’
Geralt released his grip.
‘Treat her like you would have me.’
--
Palewhite was Isabella’s face as her finger pointed at the other side of the room. High up above, where the dark wilderness loomed through narrow windows, fluttered a crowd of dark shadows. Crows. Bats. Or something of the like.
With little thuds the animalistic shadows started bumping into the glass panes, willing the windows to break.
‘What the..’ Eskel gripped for his sword, and not far behind was Geralt who swivelled around with an awkward stagger, hand gripping for the nearest sword rack where some old swords were hung for decoration.
‘Speak Isabella.’ Geralt growled beneath his breath. ‘Did you bring these?’
‘WHAT? No!’ Isabella started to furiously shake her head, eyes wild. ‘No, no..I..’ She pressed herself into a wall. ‘It wasn’t me I swear!’
Eskel squinted his eyes. ‘Transmutation you think?’ Eskel asked, studying the beasts that were now flying larger bouts so they could drive themselves with more force into the windows.
‘Like fuck..’ Geralt sighed, feet shuffling to find a more comfortable stance. Above them the windows started to groan with the pressure. Dust was falling down. And not long after the inevitable break of one, became the breaking of many. Like crystal rain the windows shattered, shortly followed by a cloud of flapping wings.
Behind the witchers, Isabella cried louder. ‘Not again!’ She cried.
‘Again?’ Eskel slashed into the air, trying to keep the bat-like creatures at bay. ‘You best not be --’ He swiped right. ‘telling us you have ANYTHING to do with--’ He caught one with his hand and squeezed it to mush between his thick fingers. ‘this.’
On his left, Geralt was slashing with less grace, but more annoyance. Short, jagged motions hit and killed and before long a pile of beady eyed creatures had piled up on the keep’s stone floor.
Outside the windows a strange voice called, but no more than two of the creatures managed to escape the Witchers’ assault. Flapping furiously they raced until there was nothing left but the carcasses of those that had been slain.
Eskel tipped one of the leathery black creatures around with his shoe. It was shin-length and beneath all the black blood that was spouting from its innards, it looked like a regular, though slightly too large, bat.
‘Start talking young lady.’ Geralt snarled.
Isabella shuffled uneasily, eyes looking for the exits that were too far away to escape to. ‘I …’ She inhaled sharply. ‘There was this man at the inn. I thought he was one of youse. You know. Big ol’ armor, some Witcher-y necklaces on, swords on his back. We drank..and..’ She cleared her throat. ‘spoke of nothing special really. The weather and such.’
‘Necklaces? Plural?’ Eskel asked.
‘Yes.’
Eskel started to wipe the blood off his sword, frowning. ‘And they looked like Witcher necklaces?’
‘I think so. One of them looked like yours.’
Eskel shot her a warning glance, to which Isabella scowled even further back up into the wall.
‘So he’s not one of yours then.’ She mumbled.
‘Did he follow?’
‘Of course not. I..I got too drunk. I slept for the whole day after, then the inn keeper warned me about the weather. That I best be on my way. So then I went..and..but..there was nobody. I swear. There was nobody else out.’ Isabella looked at Geralt, who had folded his arms in silent judgement.
‘I swear! It was raining cats and dogs! I wasn’t followed!’
‘Hmm.’
Eskel cleared his throat. ‘I’m going to check out what’s going on. You stay here with this one.’ He pointed at Geralt before leaving the hall.
Geralt clicked his tongue, yellow eyes looking out into the broken windows. ‘You’re not telling us everything little bird.’
Isabella looked down at her feet. ‘I’m sorry. I really didn’t think I was followed..’ She brushed away a tear. ‘My father’s maps weren’t really clear anyway. Got lost and all.’
Geralt kept his eyes up and out to the windows, so Isabella continued with another sniffle.
‘I’m sorry Geralt. I really am.’
Finally his gaze lowered. He looked disappointed.
‘I’ll leave -’ Isabella said, sighing and sniffling.
‘Did this man have a name?’
‘The man? Eh. Something..’ She searched for the words, but they didn’t come. ‘Mm..can’t remember. He was Redanian though. Quite odd so far up North.’
‘Redanian.’
‘Yea.’
‘The paths are blocked off. And can’t have you knowing any more of our..secret..pathways. Which by the way are NOT on our maps.’ Geralt raised an unamused eyebrow. ‘So we’ll see to this in the morning.’
Isabella sighed in quiet relief. ‘Thank you.’
‘Oh and Isabella. We’d like ALL our maps back.’
Isabella blinked up at him, cheeks blushing a deep red.
‘Now.’ Geralt reached out a hand.
‘Really see it all, huh?’
Geralt stepped in closer, forcing her to flatten herself to the wall. ‘I see..’ He looked deep into her eyes - cornflower blue, just like her father’s. He wanted, in that moment, to teach her a lesson. To perhaps frighten her. But his resolve melted away with the hue of her blush and the rise of her bossom.
Argh.
Growling inwardly he turned away, pointing at the table, where she could place the “borrowed” map she was keeping in her skirts. ‘Right there. Just put it there.’
It took a long night of waiting before Eskel returned. With blood caking to his rugged clothes, he spoke of a number of monsters that had run rampant around the keep. A short magical imbalance, it seemed. Though Eskel and Geralt both continued to be wary. Not in a long time had unwelcome visitors come ‘round. The last time actually having been the Night Hunt, who had come to look for Ciri.
Ciri. Geralt wondered where she was right now. If ever she’d return to Kaer Morhen, even if just for a day or so. Was she even alive still?
Holding guard in the hall, he watched out into the night where stars sparkled like the glass they had swept to a side of the hall. The bat bodies were burning in the fire, all purple and gooey and obviously not quite natural.
In the corner two of the old cots had been returned to their function of beds. Both Eskel and Isabella were out cold after the eventful night. Geralt, however, did not feel the least bit tired. He could feel something else. Melancholy. Loneliness. Immortality. The ever grinding passing of time. The ticking of the clock on the wall behind him. The washing and waning of the moon in the sky. The drifting by of clouds and birds and before long it was another day, followed by another night. Though hopefully, by that night, the fuss that was Isabella would be gone. He was thinking of blindfolding her. Getting her out through the crypts. But even then it would be a difficult thing to get out.
With half an eye he looked at the two sleeping forms in the corner. Eskel, though terribly annoyed with the young woman, had hushed Geralt when he had made another attempt of showing her who’s boss. Geralt didn’t know why he did that. Lashing out to Isabella the way he did. Perhaps the lack of grip on the situation had bested him. Perhaps it was because she reminded him of..
He felt his eyes water and just like that all the frustration he felt slipped down his cheek in the shape of a tear. Gods he missed Jaskier so much. He’d take it all back. The mischief. The saving the bard’s arse over and over. Even the annoying songs. Yes, even the songs. His stiff lips turned into a melancholic smile.
‘Treat her like I would you, hmm?’ He sniffled. ‘Fine.’
I finally got around to read Bourbon & Peaches and well, by the sweet-sweet bourbon gods! That was amazing, absolutely loved it. Any chance you might pick it up some time?
Hiya darlin'! Oh what a way to end a dreary monday. Thank you so much for reading my dear ❤❤ As far as continuing goes..who knows? Maybe in the future? As of right now I'm kind of slow-and-steady writing on The Wolves Return, but perhaps a little side-step to Sy romance won't hurt 👌
Summary: Who’s more annoying: the goat or the girl?
Word count: 2.131 (7,5 minutes)
Disclaimer: 16+ - Mentions of injury, Geralt being sour old sock
--
‘There’s my girl! My sweet little girl!’
Eskel’s voice sounded at the other side of the dormitory, where Geralt lay tucked into one of the beds. With a soft grumble the bed-ridden Witcher cracked open an eye. What had happened? Why was he here? Swiping a tired hand over his face he watched the closed door from which some footsteps were heard. What was Eskel on about?
‘Ha! You are silly, you know that. Much like your father.’ Eskel chimed.
Geralt frowned. Who was he talking to?
‘Do not tell me she’s still here..’ Geralt whispered with a low growl, as he pushed his aching body away from the mattress. He felt like he had been thrown in a mangler and it took all his willpower to not let out a cry.
Back in the day he would have recuperated easily from his wounds. But age at last, though not quite visible, seemed to have caught up with him. And the less visible scars - those deep within, were there to always remind him that his young years were long gone now.
Eskel had gone quiet and a moment later the door opened. With powerful strides he came in, looking dangerous with his facial scars and gigantuous physique. Eskel was however tender as a butterfly, and it showed in the way he kept his favourite goat safely in his arms. Gertie. The black-and-white flecked cause of plenty of mayhem when her adoring human ‘father’ wasn’t around.
‘And she’s right!’ Eskel laughed, kissing Gertie atop her bony head. The goat blankly stared at Geralt.
Geralt silently rolled his eyes. ‘Eskel.’
‘Hi there old man.’ Eskel grinned. His weight made the floorboards of the dormitory crunch. And the light, hmm.. It must not be late in the day. Morning probably.
‘No older than I am.’ Geralt complained as he pushed his legs over the edge of the mattress. His legs were bandaged. Properly this time. Another good note was the lack of buzzing of his head. He did not know what kind of potion the woman had given him, but it had been a bad one. Even now he could feel a faint tingle in the far ends of his fingertips.
‘Couldn’t quit the hunt, huh?’ Eskel plopped down on the bed beside Geralt, who warily watched the goat. Gertie already air-chewed in that testy little way only she could unnerve him. After some minor incidents, Geralt had locked most of the rooms in the keep, so he wouldn’t have to chase down this darn goat as she’d sneak around eating everything and anything.
‘She’s a little on the thin side.’ Eskel said, scratching the goat beneath her chin. The goat continued to stare at Geralt.
Geralt shot an unamused look back at Eskel. ‘Gertie? Well..It’s her own fault. She escaped again.’
‘Ah, well they all come back in the end, don’t they?’ Eskel winked at Geralt, who grunted softly. Why was Eskel always so upbeat?
‘Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that --’
‘HI!’ Another pair of feet entered the dormitory. The woman. Geralt’s face fell into an ever deeper grimace.
‘Ah f--’
‘I thought I’d bring some food!’ She said, raising a small plate with some dried meats and fruits. Eskel whooped.
‘A woman to my heart!’
The woman smiled and walked towards the men.
‘Interesting taste in women you have.’ Geralt whispered beneath his breath.
‘Well I--’ Eskel looked up as the woman stepped in before the two Witchers. ‘Hi.’ He smiled and looked at the plate of food in her hands. ‘Great! Shall I eh…’ He eyed Geralt who looked at him with widening eyes. ‘Leave you two..?’
Geralt started shaking his head.
‘No?’
The woman giggled. ‘Don’t worry Geralt. I don’t bite as hard as Gertie does.’
Before Geralt could utter a complaint Eskel and Gertie had left and Geralt was left alone with the woman. Bouncing from one foot to the other she looked around the dormitory. She was wearing some old clothes Ciri had left behind, and though the clothes didn’t look too bad, it was clear they weren’t fitting quite as they should. A little too tight in some places, a little too loose in others.
‘Oh and the food.’ She quickly placed the plate of food next to Geralt. With long lashes she looked away as he pulled away the last of the sheets from his body. He was wearing no more but some knee length breeches and it was clear from the hot blush on her cheeks that she was very aware of how close to nudity he was.
‘Never seen a man before?’ Geralt quirked an eyebrow. With a swift move he landed a cut of dried sausage in his mouth. Sausage. The woman’s cornflower blue eyes looked at him with slight puzzlement.
‘You have no idea who I am, huh?’ She said, shoulders drooping.
Geralt blinked, chewing on the sausage. ‘I’ve recovered from my amnesia well enough to..remember..’ He frowned. Thoughts bubbled faster and faster up from the dusty corners of his mind. After years of close to no adventures, it felt truly like a lifetime ago last he traveled The Trail. Corn..flower..blue.
I’m going to be a father, Geralt.
‘Jaskier.’ Geralt whispered, ‘Son of a..’
‘His daughter Isabella, yes.’ The woman interrupted, offering a hand in greeting.
Geralt looked up at her hand and hesitated. Shake? Kiss on knuckles? Swat away? He studied the deep blue of her eyes that he could have recognised anywhere. She definitely had her father’s eyes. Hopefully, for her good, that was were the resemblance ended. She smiled.
‘Goat got your tongue, Witcher?’
Nope. She definitely inherited more.
‘Look I don’t know why you are here, but--’
‘Oh please!’ She sat down and plopped a dried piece of apple in her mouth. ‘If I wanted to hear stories about my father I’d just go to the local whorehouse. Sure enough the two of you left plenty a --’
‘Isabella.’ Her name tasted strange in his mouth. It sounded too regal for a woman who sat here dressed in something close to rags.
‘Yes.. Geralt of Rivia?’
Geralt contemplated his question for a moment. With a guarded gaze he watched her look around the dusty room.
‘Why ARE you here?’
‘Oh that.’ She looked back at him and smiled. ‘I eh.. Guess I need a Witcher?’
‘I don’t go out on The Trail any longer. Ask Eskel.’
‘Yea yea I know. And I also learned you gentlemen don’t work during the winter, so there’s that for timing. Besides, the weather truly has gone atrocious in moments. I do not know who else you expect to arrive, but they’ll surely freeze over before --’
Too much talking. Geralt growled softly and turned his head away, eyes squinting closed. ‘Woman!’ He inhaled sharply. ‘I mean..I-Isa-bella.’
She bit her lip. ‘Sorry.’
Geralt grunted and swiped a tired hand over his face. Why couldn’t all women be like Roach? ‘No, no I’m sorry. Argh.’
Isabella watched Geralt as he started chewing on a piece of cheese. His square jaw was dusted with a speckle of grey that would soon grow out in a beard. It’d probably look good on him.
‘Are you mad at me?’
Geralt’s chest rumbled softly, but he did shake his head no. ‘Let’s just say you take after your father.’ He looked up and shook his head in bemusement.
Isabella smiled. ‘Horny old bastard he was.’
‘I didn’t mean that you --’
‘OH!’ She gasped in shock at her own words. ‘Apologies! I didn’t mean.. I mean.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I am..neither a bastard nor am I..’ Her gaze involuntarily flew over Geralts chest. ‘horny.’
Geralt knew women well enough that he best keep quiet to prevent any further embarrassment on her end. She sure as hell took after her father with that mouth of hers.
With a slightly uncomfortable tug he pulled the sheets back over his abdomen.
‘Alright. We’ll eh..talk later.’ Isabella said, before hurrying off with a long string of near silent curse words on her lips -- something that unfortunately for her, Geralt’s Witcher senses picked up quite perfectly.
--
Kaer Morhen smelled differently. It was not only because of the stew that was cooking, or Gertie who had been bound to a ring to keep away from the furniture she had started eating earlier this afternoon. No. There was something strangely familiar about the scent of a woman.
As Geralt sat perched on a comfortable chair near the hearth, his fingers absentmindedly carved away on a piece of soft wood. It was a new pass-time of his and he had gotten quite skilled at it by now. Without so much as looking he could carve out small horses, goats, swords.. and if he felt adventurous: women.
Right now the little piece of wood in his hand was only becoming slimmer. No shape there to be defined. Geralt had a difficulty to keep his mind keen now his nose continued to drift off towards the herbal sweet smell of this strange new guest in his keep.
On the other far end of the keep’s main room sat Eskel, who was reading. Though brutish in appearance, Eskel had always been one of the more refined of the School of the Wolf. Much to Vesemir’s amusement, the late keep-holder of Kaer Morhen. Yes, those darn books. Geralt had despised them. And so father, so daughter: Ciri had taken on any chance to go out and train come rain and come shine in the courtyard.
‘What are you up to?’ Geralt finally said, focussing his eyes on the woman that sat huddled over a table with an avalanche of books folded open.
‘Reading.’
‘Hmm.’ Geralt sighed and turned a little more towards the woman. In the far back he could see Eskel look up in mild curiosity.
Scratching her arm, the woman kept her focus on the sheets of paper before her. She seemed not just curious. She seemed nervous. That is, what Geralt had been smelling. Her sweat. A thin aromatic layer of sweat that basked this whole room in her presence.
‘Is it exciting?’ Geralt pushed himself up with a teeth-gritted grunt and walked over.The potion the woman had given him had thankfully worn off, so he was back to the same old aches he had to live with in cold and humid weather.
Making his way to the table, he noted she was not really reading-reading. Before her lay maps. Charts. Prints of the surrounding grounds of the keep.
‘Planning for an escape already?’
Isabella finally looked up. ‘Gotta keep my options open, no?’
Geralt looked down at the map. Her finger was resting dangerously close to one of the secret paths. Paths that he thought not even Jaskier had known about.
Isabella continued. ‘I think I came this way. The local hunter a few villages north told me far too good a tale for it to be all lies, so I set out and--’
‘What tale?’
Isabella looked up. ‘About a dangerous troll, who lives up here.’ She sniffled as she saw Geralt’s face sour.
‘You know we can’t let you live if you know the path to and from the keep.’ He sat down with a pained grunt. ‘For hundreds of years only a select group of Witchers and friends have known these tracks, and we very well like to keep it so.’ With a quick swipe he retrieved the maps and started to fold them away.
Isabella sat back and sighed. ‘Shouldn’t have shown my dad then.’
Geralt looked up. ‘He told you?’
Isabella sniffed. ‘Have you met my father? If there’s one thing he was truly blessed at, it was talking.’ She looked at Eskel who quickly reverted his eyes to his book.
‘I remember that unfortunately too vividly.’ Geralt stacked the papers together and eyed Eskel. The other Witcher made a statement of not returning his gaze. Urgh, he needed Eskel in this right now. What did he have to do with this woman?!
‘Geralt I --’ Isabella started when she noted with a gasp that something had gone terribly wrong at the other side of the room. Geralt turned his attention to that corner of the room as well, only to note what it was; Gertie. Gertie was gone.
Before he could say it, Eskel had already jumped up from his seat and the three of them set out to look behind the crates, open doors and where not.
She couldn’t have gone far, right?
Geralt slowly hopped on behind Isabella. Again, like when he met her, he felt a strange feeling come over him. And his medallion.. He reached up and noted that Isabella started turning around with a sheetpale face.
Summary: Evil is meddling in the woods and bad news hangs in the air.
Word count: 2649 (9,5 min. reading)
Disclaimer: 16+ - Thrilling, monster hunting and gore, minor injuries and a smidge of Geralt being a soft!dad
--
And then the White Wolf came. Fighting till his knees gave out and weakened did he bleat; Shit, Fuck, Almighty! Is death worth this good deed?
--
It was a terrible idea to go out of Kaer Morhen’s gates in this weather, with his leg feeling like a lug. But Geralt was a man of principle. And evil was evil. Greater, lesser, meddling. It stopped him from having a quiet night in, and he wasn’t having it.
Stepping out of the gate that crashed back in its lock, Geralt squinted into the flurry of snow. The footsteps he had seen here had faded as the stormy weather raged on.
Removing the long silver steel from its scabbard, he let his golden eyes roam over the dangerous pines. Instinctively his free hand shot out to his medallion. The magical pendant was still warm from the firepit inside and it thrummed restlessly into his palm, indicating that a source of magic was near.
‘Come out then.’ He demanded. But nothing came. A new flurry of snow came in instead and it was almost hard to believe that hours earlier the world had been green and somewhat peaceful.
Unfortunately for Geralt it wasn’t just snow that had arrived. A heavy gust made him stagger. It was like someone had tried to push him over, the strength so odd that perhaps he had already found his magical perpetrator.
Raising his sword, his free hand casted Yrden. The spell lit purplish blue fires in a circle around him, illuminating the radiant storm. That storm seemed to calm somewhat within the boundaries of his spell. It confirmed his assumptions that something strange was afoot, and yet he couldn’t place whom or what it was. Was it the woman? If so, were there more? Was this an ambush?
What a way to die that would be.
Looking left and right he sniffed the air. That same mixture of fresh pine sap and blood hung in the air.
A scream.
In a rush of whirling wind that crushed a tree branch up ahead, the woman came hurling at Geralt. Her skirts were ripped and somewhere in the past minutes she had lost her cape.
Geralt steadied his breath, ready to strike. But as the woman came near he noticed that the winds around her were off. They were irregular, like a wall of mists chasing her down.
‘RUN!’ She belted, eyes wide.
Geralt did not run. He only raised his sword a little higher, head twitching to the side to take that ever important decision; attack or defend.
The woman was a few footsteps away as he made his call. With a twirl he slashed down, hacking straight through succulent flesh.
The woman froze, gulping as a frosted grey creature fell apart by her feet.
‘Ah!’
‘QUIET.’ Geralt growled, eyes focused. The Yrden flames now cast a purplish hue over his pale features. Keeping his sword in one hand, his other was held out, ready to cast another spell if needed.
The woman nodded. With her arms grasping around some undefined wooden object in her arms she looked around skittishly. The wall of magical winds was now encircling them, causing the temperature to drop even further. Icy breaths broke from their mouths and the pinetrees above their heads went berzerkers. Whipping wildly to and fro it felt like they would soon pick up their root systems and fly off.
‘We’re gonna die.’ The woman cried.
‘The fuck we aren’t.’
The woman stepped back to get her back closer to the Witcher. Geralt snarled.
‘Don’t make this any harder woman.’
She let out a little breath but kept her complaints to herself. ‘Ha..typical this is.’ She whispered.
The winds were now inching closer, investigating the curious sign that was losing its force. Without hesitation Geralt called upon it again. The purple blue flames rose higher and as they did another creature was caught in their wake. A demon-esque, mangled face without eyes or nose reached out its claws, howling.
‘Foglet.’ Geralt growled, shoving the woman aside to make a clear path for his sword. With a fine sweep he mowed down the creature, slashing straight through its narrow body.
What Geralt didn’t notice was the launch of two more creatures that came from behind. And unlike their fellow packmember, they weren’t quite so distressed by the magical barrier that Yrden cast. Howling in pain they lunged forward, taking both the woman and Geralt by surprise.
Yrden’s light flickered as the woman was thrown to the ground, taking Geralt with her. Though the ghostly lights did not harm them, they did feel the cold return as they tumbled over the circle’s border. In moments another wave of slim limbs materialized, turning the blue-hued night into a true nightmare.
Geralt struggled to get the monsters away from them. Claws raked through supple skin and in moments the fresh white snow beneath them started to fleck with drops of blood. And not just his. The woman screamed bloody murder as one of the grey creatures found purchase on her neck.
Not that Geralt could care.
Swinging his sword in wild abandon he pushed away the aggressors that were toppling over him. The white world became a blood soaked nightmare. Greyish limbs went flying and though cold on his skin, Geralt felt warm blood thrum in his ears as the thrill of the fight returned. Practised stances echoed through his limbs as he cut through the foggy air. Though he did have to admit that even the adrenaline couldn’t qualm the ache in his leg. With a protective stance he kept the weight on his good leg, hoping the creatures weren’t smart enough to topple him over again.
A new windy cloud of snow came his way and he started hacking.
It was enough occupation to move his attention away from the dying light of Yrden. A few flickers of blue lit the trees and swirling snow before all went terribly dark.
The woman cried out again, though this time there didn’t seem to be terror within her. A snarl came from her vicinity, closely followed by a few damp thuds.
Bones cracked. Monsters howled. And as the foglets fell dead by Geralt’s feet, so did the howls behind him.
The woman panted. ‘So far for a warm welcome.’
Geralt turned, feeling the ache in his leg worsen by the second. He wasn’t even sure if he would be able to make it back to his chair without making a complete fool of himself. In the dark stood the woman, the object that she had kept in her arms now falling apart in misery. A lute, that’s what it must have been. The strings curled broken around her bloodied hands. Her eyes were bewildered as she looked around in what must be pitchblack darkness for her.
‘Hello?’ She stopped panting to swallow deeply.
She couldn’t see him.
Geralt felt his lip curl up, though he wasn’t sure whether he was smiling or grimacing. The thrill of the fight was slowly seeping away with the blood that was gushing from his shallow wounds. He had to take care of that soon.
‘We don’t have visitors here.’ He finally said, allerting the woman. She held her breath and held her broken lute a little higher. The poor instrument was beyond repair.
‘I’ve learned otherwise good Sir.’ She shuffled nervously, still not able to see him.
Around them the storm had returned to a quiet snowfall. No stars were to be seen and little flecks of snow were starting to stack back onto the tree branches. In a few hours the paths to Kaer Morhen would become near impossible to cross by normal footfolk. And that was all fair and game, until you have a visitor at the wrong side of the tracks.
Geralt sighed. ‘Visitor or not. Claim your business here.’
The woman huffed. ‘You’re my business.’
‘I am your business?’
‘The Butcher of Blaviken? The White Wolf of Rivia?! The--’
Geralt started walking off. Or better said: limping off. His leg was smarting so terribly that he already felt his head whirl after just a few steps. That, or it was the blood loss in combination with the biting cold.
‘Hey!’ The woman heard his dragging feet and followed.
Every few steps Geralt could hear her slip and slide, but she was not one so easily dissuaded.
‘I don’t do visitors.’ He growled, clenching his teeth. His vision was starting to swim as he laid eyes on the gates up ahead.
‘Well then count me as an old-new friend.’
Geralt halted, but as he wished to tell the woman off he could feel the world starting to blur. The sharp jolts of pain from his leg were starting to numb -- bad sign.
‘I don’t even know y--’
--
[In perhaps a dream]
‘Now you take good care of him, okay?’ Ciri whispered to Roach. The horse wiggled her ears as they both kept a mischievous eye on Geralt. The spring sun was streaming warm light over Kaer Morhen’s courtyard as all inhabitants stood around to wish the young woman farewell.
Meanwhile Geralt kept a small smile on his lips. He wasn’t really feeling happy, but he had to quell the less desirable feelings that were bubbling up inside him. Ciri was leaving. She was a grown woman now. This was a good thing. This was supposed to happen, right?
He eyed Vesemir who seemed far more relaxed. Arms folded and hip leaning into the stair balustrade, he winked at Geralt.
‘Hmmpf.’ Geralt huffed through smiling lips.
‘Now, now. You start sounding like me there, young man.’ Vesemir grinned.
‘It’s not the same.’
‘Oh I think it is.’ Vesemir raised up as Ciri skirted up the stairs to jump-hug him. He chuckled merrily as he patted the back of her shoulder.
‘Uncle Vesemir.’ Ciri swallowed, smiling and fighting back tears.
‘Goodbye Cirilla. Return to us soon.’
‘I will.’ She turned and readied herself for the poorly kept tempest that was Geralt.
Geralt awkwardly tried to keep his lips in a smile, but looked far more malicious and mad than happy.
‘Geralt.’ Ciri mumbled, stepping in to press her head under his chin. Like old times their arms folded around one another, their noses turned to take in each other's scents.
‘Cir-.’ Geralt’s voice cracked and he chose silence instead. Unsure where to look he looked at the blurry cascade of mousy blond hair that Ciri had started growing out the past year. She kept it braided most of the time and it would always snag with small twigs and branches as they roamed around the grounds and forests of Kaer Morhen.
Her time of training was over. It was time for her to set out on The Trail and carry on the knowledge and skills he had taught her. It felt odd after all these years together.
‘Hang in there old man.’ Ciri whispered, hugging him a little tighter. The sun burned hot on their skin and Geralt wondered if he was feeling her sweat or her tears. Either which it was, he held on tight just a moment longer.
‘And tell Jaskier he cannot, I repeat CANNOT use my flute. Don’t want his spit all over.’
Geralt huffed. ‘Of all the things..’
‘What?’ Ciri leaned back and quickly dried a tear on her cheek.
Geralt smiled. This time a real smile. Squeezing her back into his embrace once more he pressed a kiss on top of her head. ‘Come back whenever.’
--
A melody. Too happy for the way Geralt was feeling. Squinting hard against the ray of light that fell exactly on his face, he woke up from a fitful dream. The melody hadn’t been part of the dream though. As he looked around he found himself laying on a wooden bench with some animal skins propped up under his head.
The music continued to flow through the large hall where the first light had arrived some hours ago. The air was fresh with the snow from outside -- the door had been opened recently. And there was a fire. Well-kept, warm, smelling of just a tinge of lacquer.
A figure sat there, wrapped in a worn blanket, naked feet dangling from the bench. The woman. It all came back to Geralt as he pushed himself up with a grunt. His leg was feeling terrible, but his wounds were bound. His shirt had been removed, he noted, and replaced by a simple blanket. His arms and shoulders were wrapped in blood speckled bandages and he could smell the heady aroma of some herbs peaking through.
‘Fuck.’ He groaned, sitting up completely.
The music stopped and the woman looked over her shoulder.
‘Look who’s alive.’ She said, getting up.
Geralt’s eyes shot daggers at her. ‘You could’ve killed us.’
It was the first time since he saw her well and true. She had dirty blonde locks, which fell away from a messy braid. And her eyes were a striking cornflower blue. Her clothes, once quite expensive, were torn to pieces. Her face. Hmm her face. He was sure he didn’t know the woman and yet she tingled a familiar sense in him.
Grunting Geralt got up from the bench. His body was aching like he had been pummeled in a fistfight with Eskel, and he couldn’t wait to dip into his stash of potions. Potions.. With a weary eye on the strange woman he moved his attention to the cellar door in the far back. It was open.
The woman squeaked in delight. ‘Quite a collection you have here! Are there others? There are other Witchers right? My father always --’
‘WOMAN.’
The woman quieted, biting her lip. ‘Actually my name is --’
Geralt stepped forward with all the power he could muster, willing the strange woman to be gone as soon as possible. He could lock her up somewhere. He could throw her out. He could.. He clenched his jaw as he realised how rapid his heart was beating in his chest. Little beads of sweat were falling down his brow and before he could utter another retort at the woman he felt the clammy cold of unconsciousness crawl back over him.
‘Geralt..?’
Her voice swam like a breeze through his mind.
--
‘I’m going to be a father.’ Jaskier sighed, staring out at the dipping sun. The sausages they had roasted on the campfire were almost all eaten by him.
Geralt sighed. ‘You don’t know the trouble you’re getting yourself into Jaskier.’
Jaskier smiled dreamily. ‘And yet we wouldn’t have it any other way.’
Summary: After a long life of monster hunting, Geralt has retired to hold keep at Kaer Morhen. Winter is now fast approaching and though he expects visitors, not all of them are quite as welcome.
Word count: 2.297 (8,5 min read)
Disclaimer: 16+ - Thrilling, some sexual references
--
The world goes eerily quiet when laid in white. Even the finest ears may not hear the migthiest cries.
--
There hung something in the air today.
A tempest that tinged the skies a hue of purple. There was a restlessness that made Geralt’s medallion tremble. And then there was of course the annoying old ache in his thigh bone, causing him to limp as he returned to his trusty steed.
Hoisting up the poultry he had hunted down that morning, Geralt kept a watchful eye on the trees. Nothing much seemed out of the ordinary. With the day still early, a mist clung to the ferns and fallen over branches. It would look gloomy to anyone unfamiliar with the terrain. But to Geralt it looked perfectly normal. And yet.. Hmm.
Stepping out into the forest clearing, his golden eyes brightened up. Roach had for once not left her spot -- which was quite a feat for the obnoxious, black and white coated mare. He grinned at her, clicking his tongue in hope she would meet him halfway. His leg was really a bother today and after his hunt he couldn’t wait to be back at Kaer Morhen and settle back in a chair.
Roach, unfortunately, wasn’t so easy to convince. Blinking at him, she made absolutely zero effort to move to the Witcher. Instead she took a step or two back, twirling her ears as if challenging him.
‘Oh don’t do that..’ Geralt sighed. He was really getting too old for all this. Reaching out a hand he leapt forward to catch her reins, his other arm swift to throw his bounty over the saddle.
‘What is it with you women? Always eager to give me a challenge.’
Roach snorted.
‘Yea yea. You laugh. Teasing an old man now, huh?’
She shook her head.
‘Alright. Enough adventure for today, let’s get back and see if my brothers have arrived yet.’
Climbing up in the saddle he ran a hand through Roach’s manes, comforting himself with her warmth and accepting little huff. Without another word they set out, returning to their home at Kaer Morhen, where soon enough not only first snow would arrive, but also his Witcher brothers. Ready to outstay the winter. Like old times.
--
[an age ago]
‘Oh come on old sock!’ Young Ciri jeered. She chuckled as she saw a hint of white hair peeking out over the turned over cart.
‘Or what? Scared to lose?’ Geralt poked his head out over the makeshift barrage, eyeing his daughter as she stalked around a few wooden barrels. First snow had fallen last night and though it was hardly enough for a proper snowball fight, the two couldn’t be kept from having a little fun in the courtyard.
Not far off sat Coën on one of the stair steps, his dark long beard sparkling with the little snowflakes that danced in the air. He had started down the stairs to gather Ciri for her daily training, but had decided a few minutes of fun wouldn’t hurt.
Having settled down with his arms crossed, he watched the two dance around the courtyard, hands clinging to powdery balls of white snow.
‘Oh now you’ve got it!’ Ciri darted forward, earning an exasperated little sigh from Coën.
‘Footwork Ciri, footwork!’
She slowed down, turning around dramatically to give him an eyeroll. That moment, however, was all it took for Geralt to take the victory, his hand lifting the back of her collar so he could land a fresh heap of snow in her shirt.
‘AYEEEEE!’ She yelped, twirling around at lightning speed to tackle Geralt before he could step away. The two fell tumbling and Coën couldn’t help but chuckle as he got up. As he made his way back up towards the main entryway, he found Vesemir standing there, looking down at father and daughter tumbling around in the snow.
‘Quite a pair, aren’t they?’
Coën shrugged, brushing a hand over his long dark beard. ‘She’s a special one.’
Vesemir stepped aside to let him through, but Coën remained. Turning on his heel he looked back at Ciri and Geralt. The contemplative stare of his golden eyes hid something he wouldn’t speak of. A quiet sorrow that one would only find in the kin of Witchers.
‘Ai Geralt! No!’ Ciri screeched, gasping as another launch of snow was squashed into her face.
A moment later Geralt stepped in next to Vesemir and Coën, smirking as he wiped some frosty hairs out of his face.
‘Well there’s someone who likes winter.’ Coën said.
Geralt shrugged, smirking as he turned just in time to catch Ciri before she could return the assault.
Growling in frustration the young girl tried to fight against Geralt’s grip, but there was no use.
Coën sighed, shaking his head as he nodded in the direction of the great hall.
‘Alright. Let’s get you soaked kittens dry before we start training. Can’t have you wet as a rat out here in the cold.’
‘Say that to those who still have to arrive.’ Ciri huffed, blinking up at the sky where thicker and thicker flakes of snow were starting to fall.
‘All come in due time.’ Tutted Coën. ‘Witchers can handle a wee bit of snow.’
--
The hour had grown late and Geralt had settled back in his chair before the fire. First snow had arrived, as expected, but his fellow brethren had not yet. With a thoughtful expression Geralt watched the flames in the firepit before him dance around a few pine cones he had thrown in. Every few seconds the fire would find a residue of the pine resin, causing the flames to rise higher and cast long shadows over the recently swept floors.
He felt ready for his winterly guests, especially now he had gone some months without much adventure. He couldn’t wait for the joy and laughter to return, because though retired from the Trail, he still felt every bit the Witcher. He still trained whenever his leg allowed, and kept his sword sharp and closeby.
Living in the quiet keep of Kaer Morhen, like his late teacher Vesemir once had, meant that most of the year there was little companionship. Winter, however, meant the return of the others. Of bawdy laughter, drinking..and perhaps some impromptu dress-up parties in Yen’s clothing.
Yen. He hadn’t seen her in more than an age. The raven haired sorceress with her snappy remarks and dizzying scent. He couldn’t quite remember it now. The scent. He even bought it from a merchant some years ago, just to smell it every now and then. But it just wasn’t the same without her own scents mixed in. It didn’t make his heart race the way she could. Was she still alive?
A howling draft whipped through the hall, making the medallions of his fallen brothers jingle. They hung from an old tree that had been dried and placed like a huge ornamental shrine on the far end of the spacious room. Geralt inhaled deeply and willed himself to relax. For a moment he could have sworn that his medallion had trembled, but perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks. There was nothing there. Nothing to beseech his immediate attention.
A voice called.
Sitting up Geralt turned his nose into the draft, scenting what it might be. Just the winds again? Or a visitor?
It was quiet once more and with a grunt he returned his annoyance to the fire before him. Perhaps he should get a hobby, like the old bard had once suggested. There. There was another person he didn’t want to admit to missing. Jaskier. The one most obnoxious, but beloved friend he ever had. Not even Regis’ uncalled for remarks or Milva’s unnerving singing could light a candle to the amount of suffering Geralt had undergone in the name of his friendship to Jaskier. Had it not been for having to save him from trolls, it might have been from angry mobs of highborn duchesses -- you’d be surprised how many there were of those.
It had been years since Jaskier had found his rest, and still Geralt could very much remember the stories they had lived through together. The great tales that had been created with perhaps a touch of fantasy to make Geralt into one of the greatest Witchers ever lived.
Or so Jaskier had proclaimed.
Another howl. No wind this time though, Geralt was sure. With a swift twirl he started his way towards the battlements. On and on and up, straight into the icy winds that were biting their way around the ancient walls of the fortress. In the dark it was hard to make out anything other than the whipping trees and whirling snowflakes. But if his sharp eyes were not mistaken, there was something afoot near the fort entrance.
He hadn’t raised the bridge. And apparently the narrow pathway to the main gate now made a stage for some unusual display. A hooded figure stood there cursing, hand knocking nervously against the heavy outer door.
It was obvious that this wasn’t any of his Witcher brothers. They knew the secret ways to enter and wouldn’t have even bothered with entering this way in this kind of weather.
No, this was someone else. Someone that smelled of fresh pine sap, blood and perhaps a wee bit of pee. This someone was afraid. Terribly afraid in fact. Another howl raved through the winds and the knocking became more furious.
‘PLEASEE!’ It was a female voice that cried out over the wind.
Geralt grumbled. Really now? A woman? Here? Eyeing the wildly moving trees he scouted for any trouble. But other than the wind and snow, there didn’t seem much amiss.
‘Sir?! SIR?!’
Oh fuck, she saw me.
Cursing himself inwardly, Geralt looked down the large wall that separated them. The woman was squinting into the flurry of snow, holding one hand up to keep her hood on her head. She wasn’t too old. But definitely not pretty enough to be a sorceress. She was not Yen. Nor any woman he knew. She was not in immediate danger, but then again..sending her back would be dangerous indeed. The people didn’t know this path. She, however, apparently did.
Contemplating what to do, Geralt stood there looming over the battlements. The icy winds were starting to nip at his exposed skin and he could feel the ache returning to his leg. He had hoped for visitors, but not like this. Not… He scowled as the woman struggled to keep her cape close around her body. She looked terribly clumsy and she surely wouldn’t survive this night.
Geralt sighed.
--
[one day back in summer]
‘You know, Geralt. There’s two good things in this world.’ Jaskier smacked loudly as he chewed on some freshly roasted sausage from the campfire.
‘Hmm.’
‘First of all there’s of course the delicious enticement that is all that you can fit in your bed.’
‘Please don’t start about the unicorn.’
Jaskier laughed -- nearly launching a piece of sausage from his mouth. ‘Oh, do NOT give me ideas. Oh that’s quite splendid. How large was it anyway? Life-sized? Play-sized? FUN-sized?’
‘Jaskier!’
‘Hey! You started this. Anyway, where was I? DE-li-cious sausages by the way. That butcher’s girl knows how to handle her meat. And I’m not just talking about…’ He dangled another sausage between his juicy fingers, wiggling his eyebrows.
Geralt didn’t so much as look, keeping his attention on the golden light that shone down from the sinking sun. The valley before them was luscious with buzzing summer life. Cicadas were singing, beasts were roaming. And then there was Jaskier, smacking loudly as he ate the freshly roasted sausages from the campfire.
Jaskier continued, swallowing his bite. ‘Oh don’t mind the unicorn though. We all had our interesting experiences.’
Geralt finally looked back at Jaskier, whose lips curled in a smile.
‘I don’t think I want to know.’
‘Perhaps another time, yes.’ Jaskier agreed, grinning.
‘So the second good thing, what was that?’
‘Well family of course!’
Geralt raised an eyebrow at the bard, who now dreamily stared down at the valley.
‘Family.’
‘Mhm.’ Jaskier sighed with a smile.
‘Things that fit in your bed, and family.’
‘Well if you play your cards right they both might end up in your bed. And I’m quite platonic in my speech here. But yes. Family.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Glad you asked Witcher! Now family is of course more than just the line of blood you’re born from. It’s more than the people you are taught to call your family. Ciri, is your daughter, no doubt. And Yen, witchy mistress of evil with those delectable butt cheeks. Probably family.’
Geralt huffed.
‘Oh don’t complain. But now there’s more! There’s..’
Geralt sat up. His golden eyes had practically set alight in the glowing burst of sunrays. ‘You knocked someone up didn’t ya?’
Jaskier swallowed -- no sausage this time. For the few words that ever came from the Witchers mouth, he hadn’t quite expected the Witcher to have been so straightforward. Wordlessly he looked at Geralt. ‘Well..’
--
Struggling with the rusty old joints of the peeping hole, Geralt opened the tiny latch at eye height. The woman that had been there moments earlier had disappeared. Which was peculiar, because it had been quite clear that she had wanted to enter.
It was only a second later that he heard a heart wrenching cry. The winds twirled and twisted the sound, suffocating it before any human ear could have probably heard. He didn’t take long to make one and one two. The winds by the treeline were moving the wrong direction. And tracks in the snow, though hard to see, were just fresh enough to follow despite the roaring storm. They led back to that exact treeline.
Fuck.
Feeling his medallion hum despite the way it was sent back and forth in the wild wind, confirmed his suspicion. Evil was here. And perhaps it had come knocking, too.
🥺🌼💕 get to know your mutuals!! when you get this, it means i want to know more about you, so list 5 things about yourself you want your followers to know. they can be as simple as your age or as complex as your deepest fear, as long as it’s something you’re comfortable with sharing. when you’re done, send this to 10 people you want to get to know better 🥺🌼💕
Aw, Lauren, love, you're the sweetest (and the craziest, lol). Let's see...
☆I love writing like a lot, but in Spanish, which turns out to be my mother tongue and since my English is terrible, I don't write anything.
☆I'm good at cooking... I mean, quite good. I love to read about it, I love to try new things, I used to search for some old recipes and old gastronomy books. But all of that is over since I entered tumblr and I became a hoe! 😅 I have no time.
☆I'm not young. I mean not at all. And being here, reading all the posts, the fics, somehow has rejuvenated me and made me see life differently. I also hope that my way of seeing things, from my life experience, has seemed interesting to someone (I don't think so tho 😅).
☆Maybe it's because I'm older than most of you I see things in a more relaxed way, and also more understanding. Lately I notice that there are a lot of people who lack empathy and I don't like that. Accusing others, sending hateful messages can only mean that we do not respect them and that we demand a perfection neither of us have.
☆Finally. I have two sons and they are the main reason why I wake up and face life. Thankfully not the only one.
I'm done, excuse me! Lol.
I'm too lazy so I'm going to tag (no pressure) all of you here.💜
Oh darling @luclittlepond. First of all I’m so honored to know you and have you around for whenever I need to share about how my tomato plants are doing or if I need to share other trivial things even my boyfriend can’t be bothered with. You’re an angel (who can cook! and be a badass mom! and definitely write English well enough to write half a book’s worth of things about herself :D) Love you my darling!
Now ehm..about me?
1. I cook too. A lot. I also make a cookbook each year with my newest experiments (and then gift the printed editions all away during my yearly Christmas dinners with friends and family).
2. I just switched jobs and though I always said I’d never be a manager - I hate managers with my every living breath. You guessed it; I became a (marketing) manager. But at least, so far so good; people are really happy I joined the team and I finally go back to work with a big ol’ smile!
3. I haven’t seen most of my friends for months, some even years. It’s a good thing Tumblr exists because there are days that the COVID craze really is getting to me.
4. Did you know koala’s have human-like fingerprints?
5. I love to sleep -- and my incessant yawning right now is telling me it’s time to hit the hay. Sleep well, sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite!
--
I’m terrible with tag trains, but do please consider yourself tagged if you read this and feel like sharing a thing or five. ❤
Author’s note: My lovely beans! What is this I see?! I have got nearly 1500 of you lovely souls following this humble little blog of mine, so I thought I’d set out on another quest to entertain the lot of you. And as we will have to wait a moment longer before our favourite Witcher is back on screen, I thought I’d give you some Witcher-y tales instead. Get ready for adventure, banter and perhaps a little bit of old man Geralt having his heart melt over some unexpected special someone. 💕🥰
--
[one day back in summer]
‘You know, Geralt. There’s two good things in this world.’ Jaskier smacked loudly as he chewed on some freshly roasted sausage from the campfire.
‘Hmm.’
‘First of all there’s of course the delicious enticement that is all that you can fit in your bed.’
‘Please don’t start about the unicorn.’
Jaskier laughed -- nearly launching a piece of sausage from his mouth. ‘Oh, do NOT give me ideas. Oh that’s quite splendid. How large was it anyway? Life-sized? Play-sized? FUN-sized?’
‘Jaskier!’
--
THE WOLVES RETURN - Summary: After a long life of monster hunting, Geralt has retired to hold keep at Kaer Morhen. Winter is now fast approaching and though he expects visitors, not all of them are quite as welcome.
