A Wolf’s Heart | [Deglan x M!Reader] | The Witcher | Part I
Notes: I found Deglan super attractive when watching the witcher movie so I’m glad that people are interested in him! Thank you for this request! 😊
I also apologize for taking so long for this request (it’s been months I’m so sorry) and making this overly angsty. I get the feeling I can’t write anything else. I apologize if this is not what you expected, maybe I should do a warning tag that I can only write stories with angst. But hey, there’s a happy ending so no worries, right...? xD
Fandom: The Witcher
Warnings: Original Characters, Swearing, Depression, Angst, Slight OOC, Non-Canon Story, Century Typical Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Spiraling, Injuries, Self-Concious Reader, Misunderstandings
Summary: The life of a witcher is ruled by two things. Coin and monsters. Yet when Y/N looks at his mentor both fade into the background and a third variable enters the picture... But witchers don’t have it easy with love. And Y/N doesn’t seem to be an exception
Word Count: 4,773
Taglist: @thatsequoia
If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)
Note 2: I just realized that you wrote “recently became a witcher” and I totally messed that part up I’m so sorry 0.o I hope you don’t mind the change! Since witchers have a pretty long life span, I decided that their training ends around the age of twenty something. So the reader is an adult (in our terms not the middle ages) when he becomes a full witcher. I invented quite a lot of stuff for this story so the non-canon in the description is really necessary xD
Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII
Masterlist
Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed and is addressed in this story, if you potentially get triggered please do not continue to read!
Additionally, please read the warnings as they change in some parts of the story
Y/N was different from the common folk.
As far as he was aware, not everyone had to pass harsh trials, risk his life with alchemical experiments and turn into a mutant with superhuman abilities, magical powers and the added side-effect of not being able to reproduce.
Aside from those obvious witcher affairs and the whole baggage that came with them, however, there was one more thing that was different about him. It wasn’t something he hated, no, not at all, it just made him lonely.
Loneliness had been part of a witcher’s life for hundreds of years, it was no surprise then that it was also part of Y/N’s. However, unlike others in his school, he had known that feeling since birth. Therefore, he was no stranger to it and it did not bother him up until a certain point in his adult life. But then... Well...
Y/N did not like the idea of visiting the many brothels of the land because he could not find comfort and pleasure there. In fact, they reminded him of his difference. A man like him would most likely never find happiness in those places, much less in another person, and certainly not in a woman.
But before he actually realized that, he had hopes and dreams.
He hoped, and he dreamed, and he loved.
Everything began when he was just a young boy with big dreams in the school of the Wolf. Big dreams that one could shatter easily...
“Damn, how many hours have passed now? I cannot feel my arms anymore!”, cursed Fenri, supporting his hands on his knees to take a breather. Cole checked their surroundings before he lowered his steel sword and sat on one of the meager patches of grass in the courtyard.
The sun shone directly on his face and the keep’s high walls created long shadows on the ground. They had been training for hours now and Deglan had yet to come and tell them to stop.
Their group consisted of 8 boys who had miraculously survived the trials of Grasses and they had been in the school for around 3 years now and therefore knew how shit worked in the school’s keep.
Consequently, it was a normal occurrence for the witcher to leave their training unsupervised, while he checked on the lessons of the younger ones. But despite his absence, he always seemed to sense when they were slacking off.
And that often happened when their younger friend Wendir was with them. The boy was originally part of a younger group but he was the only survivor during the trials of the Grasses and due to his fate, he would often train with them, although he was known to tempt the other boys to take a break. He was unexpectedly lazy for a witcher apprentice.
Yet, this time the boys did not fear Deglan’s wrath because they were accompanied by their friend Y/N, who had finally recovered from his last alchemical experiments.
If Deglan ever discovered their break, the older one would save them from his harsh punishments. They could trust Y/N due to the many experiences they had shared and the times he had saved them selflessly during their trials. Therefore, they rested their sore bodies for a while.
Said youth was currently wiping the sweat from his forehead, although he did not look nearly as exhausted as the rest of them. His breathing was shockingly even for the fact that they had just swung their swords 1000 times at straw puppets.
However, this was not a surprise at all for any of the boys.
Y/N was the oldest among them, he had the most fighting experience and he also underwent the most additional experiments. The scars and muscles on his lean body were proof of that. Y/N's stamina and capabilities were already beyond a child of his age, which gave him quite a few admirers but also rivals.
The blond Fenri followed Y/N's gaze across the courtyard. He was once again staring at Tristan - one of the young witchers who took care of the new brats. He did not know why Y/N seemed to always gaze at the black-haired man with an unreadable expression but it had reached a point where it annoyed him to death. So he opened his gob and said words he would regret for years in the future:
“You know if you continue to stare, someone might start to think you fancy the man.”
Fenri’s comment made the other guys focus on him, their laboured breathing hindered them from asking questions though. Yet Y/N, the person he addressed did not pay him any attention. His yellow eyes did not even move an inch away from Tristan’s form.
“What do you mean?”, asked Cole breathlessly.
“One might think Y/N is in love with Tristan.”
Fenri watched the oldest of their group closely to see any kind of reaction from his words and the corner of his lips twitched when he saw how the h/c haired boy straightened his back and turned towards him, a contemplative expression on his face.
“What’s wrong with that?”, asked Barmin, curiously staring at his friend.
Seven pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly and Fenri had to pause for a second. He did not exactly know how to answer that question but it was not like he was spouting lies. His mother told him when he was younger and still lived with his family. It was just wrong.
“You cannot be in love with a man," he responded confidently. “Men love women, women love men, that is the law of nature. Men loving men is... gross.”
The boys did not look convinced and while he tried to find a better response to why love between two men was wrong, the blond noticed that Y/N focused his attention on their training again, he raised his dull training blade about to swing at one of the straw puppets once more.
Fenri frowned in annoyance. It seemed as if he could never truly rattle the older boy he considered his rival. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. One day he would triumph over the other, whether that would be in a conversation or battle.
Robin and Milan began to argue about his words and their voices got louder and louder now that they had regained their breaths.
“Who said you cannot like another boy? Is it not just love?”
“I have never liked another boy or been liked by one before! So it isn’t natural, it cannot be!”
“That is just because you have a brain the size of mouse shit and a nose like a potato! No one would like you anyways, be it a girl or a boy!”
“Fuck, what did you just say?! You want to fight?”
“As if you’d win against me!”
Their argument turned a few heads of passing witchers and students and Fenri sensed that if he did not stop them soon, they could expect an angry Deglan on their arses at any second.
“Did you fools not listen to the talk of our seniors? They said themselves that we want to fuck broads left and right when we finish all of our experiments! Women NOT men!”
He hoped this argument was enough to silence them. He did not expect his teasing to initiate a fight. And judging by the eyes on his two friends who were at each other’s throats, they had been loud enough to draw attention.
Luckily, they quickly shut their mouths when Cole stared at them disapprovingly. The boy looked somewhat like a scolding mother and it was very effective. Hopefully, they didn’t alert Deglan. Who knew where he was lurking...
The fact that he used rather crude words did not come to his mind until he heard someone clear his throat behind him and based on it, he knew exactly why everyone had turned dead silent and why Y/N had turned around and stared at him - or most likely at Deglan behind him who had mysteriously shown up out of nowhere.
“What a nice discussion you have during your training. Would you like some fucking tea served to it?”
Fenri tensed and did not know if he should turn around or not. Before he could do anything though, Y/N stepped forward with his steel sword. Cole sighed in relief.
“No tea, sir,” was all the boy said when he changed his posture into a defensive stance, sword tip pointing at Deglan. He held his sword firmly in his hand, ready to distract their mentor from his friends like usual.
Had Fenri turned around, he would have seen the glint of amusement in Deglan’s eyes, one that only showed when the h/c haired boy uselessly tried to cover for his friends by challenging the witcher to a fight. Even now he tried it even though he caught them red-handed while they slacked off.
Deglan and everyone else knew Y/N would always lose - the fool himself knew - he was just a brat after all, but Deglan found it amusing that the boy tried again and again. His desperate attempts of creating a diversion amused him greatly.
The witcher saw through it every time, yet he never punished the boy, nor his friends too harshly.
Deglan found Y/N’s protective spirit commendable and it impressed him every time how fast he came up with new fighting tactics. Furthermore, the injuries that the boy sustained in each fight were probably punishment enough.
“Ready for round 24? Or is it 25?” he asked the h/c haired youth while rolling his left shoulder with a subtle smile.
“Actually it’s 27," Y/N replied, and Deglan hummed. The witcher glanced at the sword in his hands and grinned.
“I think my fists are enough for today.”
Y/N frowned. After their seventeenth fight, the witcher had begun to use his sword, so why...?
His eyes took in his surroundings and he realized that the people in the courtyard, the young witchers, the new candidates and their potential mentors, all were now watching them, even Tristan.
Automatically Y/N’s heart began to pound faster. His gaze lingered on the black-haired witcher and when something moved in the periphery of his vision, he could only gasp in alarm before he crashed face first in the dirt. A painful groan escaped him and a bolt of pain shot through his neck where Deglan had hit him.
“Getting distracted means getting yourself killed”, warned his mentor and the laughter of the surrounding witchers made Y/N’s face burn from embarrassment.
This was the first time in a while that he could not even swing his sword at Deglan before he got humiliated.
Shame rose in his chest, but he was also angry. Deglan played dirty by attacking him while distracted, although he knew that neither monsters nor human enemies would act chivalrously in a real fight.
One might expect him to have thick skin after 27th defeats but getting embarrassed in front of so many people was different, especially when a certain young man was watching him.
He wished a hole would open up under him and swallow him whole.
Y/N slowly stood up, mud caked his clothes and his face and he grimaced. He had bit his lip during the fall and the taste of iron was disgustingly familiar. He was about to grasp his sword again, ready for defeat number 28 when Deglan dismissed him with the movement of his hand.
“Training's over for you, mud face. Go wash yourself and you-”, he pointed at Fenri, Cole and the rest of Y/N’s friends, “you lot follow me.”
Deglan’s voice turned icy towards the end and he walked past the dirty boy, giving him a strong pat on the shoulder.
Y/N almost lost his balance but quickly regained it. His ears were red from embarrassment and before Cole could nudge him encouragingly, he turned around and quickly crossed the courtyard to escape the still laughing pack of witchers.
His defeat hurt more than usual, probably because Tristan had been watching, and it annoyed him. Sighing, he rubbed his face.
When he washed himself that day, he scrubbed his skin vigorously and pondered about the events that happened that afternoon.
He should have felt guilty for not being able to distract Deglan from his friends. They had probably gotten punished with "special” training - exactly what they had wanted to avoid since the last time had been absolutely horrible... But he couldn’t shake off the gnawing irritation.
It was probably due to Fenri's words.
The younger boy often tried to egg him on, but he rarely succeeded. This time, however...
Y/N racked his brain about Fenri's statement from before. Was he not allowed to like Tristan? He had never questioned his feelings up to this point so it greatly disturbed him.
"Men loving men... is gross..."
These words would haunt him in the coming years and torment him in his sleep because that had been the moment when he realized that his feelings for another man might be viewed as unnatural by other people. What exactly that would mean for him was something he learned only later, though.
When Y/N had laid down in his straw bed in the stables that night, not sure if he could sleep after the event in the afternoon, Cole nudged him and said:
"You know, I don’t believe men liking men is gross. We have many other things to worry about, so the feelings of another man are the least of our concerns, nor are they our business. Deglan told us that...”
He stopped for a second and then whispered: “I think Fenri is acting like a cunt because no girls are training to become witchers. He is just a lonely pent-up arsehole, you know."
Y/N snorted when "I heard that, you bastard!" came from somewhere in the back and some hay flew across the room, hitting Robin, who was laying in another straw hollow right next to him. He sneezed loudly.
“Shit, I was this close to sleeping, you fucker! I’ll get you!”
Chaos ensued, 5 boys were brawling and the discussion was over before Y/N could answer Cole or ask him any questions.
But a little later, after all of them were screamed at by one of the witchers on night guard; when Y/N was the only one still awake, he contemplated what Cole had meant.
Did his mentor not have anything against the thought of two men liking each other? Did he take his friends aside to tell them that and not to punish them?
He would have to ask Cole in the morning... Or should he ask Deglan directly?
The idea made his heart speed up suddenly. Why was he so nervous?
Out of nowhere, he saw his mentor in a different light.
-
In the end, he did not ask Deglan directly. He was too shy. But his mind replayed Cole’s words for days after that. And that marked the moment when Y/N’s eyes began to unconsciously follow someone other than Tristan.
Yes, he still watched the black-haired young man from time to time, but their training suddenly entailed a lot more lectures and so he began to see Deglan daily, while Tristan crossed his path less and less. And then came spring and the young witcher went on the Path - as many others - and his absence left a hole in Y/N’s usual routine. A hole he filled with a new person of his interest; Deglan.
The man was a renowned witcher, known for his strength and knowledge in the school and Y/N had begun to respect him after the first five losses of their duels. His respect began to grow even further, however, after observing Deglan closely every day.
The older witcher was a dick sometimes, his training was harsh, he could be insensitive on occasions and when his arms spasmed in pain after their mindless sword-swinging exercises Y/N hated him with a passion, but there was something about his mentor that drew his eyes to him again and again in the following years of his training.
Maybe it was the way he carried himself, maybe it was the way he treated Y/N or maybe it was his rugged but strong appearance...
The youth watched how Deglan poured a bucket of water over his naked upper body after his training with the older apprentices.
Nevermind, his appearance was definitely one of the reasons why.
A weird feeling spread in his gut, as he watched how water droplets travelled across Deglan’s scarred back muscles. His ears started to burn and the youth at the threshold of adulthood turned away to hack at the training straw doll with newfound vigor.
-
While Deglan’s appearance definitely drew Y/N in, his character made his eyes return every time.
Thanks to his advanced training and the experiments, he was allowed to share moments with Deglan, when the rough exterior of the man vanished, to show his true character underneath. His kindness, his understanding, his humour.
Of course, there were also moments when Y/N despised the man. He was his mentor after all and every witcher had such instances during their first years at the school.
When Y/N was subjected to more experiments than the other witchers in training and experienced more pain than them, he often cried at night, cursing Deglan in his thoughts. And he cursed himself for letting himself be overwhelmed by his mentor’s praise after he survived the experiments.
When Cole died during one of the trials because of a mage’s accident and Deglan did not dare speak out against the said man, he exploded on him and screamed his voice raw.
Yet although these incidents happened, Y/N could never truly hate him. Deglan had already conquered his heart.
The older man personally tended to him after his experiments. He cleaned his wounds, stayed up for nights to take care of his fever and made sure he was not left with horrible scars. Thanks to his care, Y/N’s face was not completely disfigured.
And he made sure that the young adult was proud of his achievements.
Y/N blushed like a maiden every damn time when Deglan commented on his fierce-looking scars, while his heart tried to crawl out of his ribcage and present itself to the other man as if he were a god.
And when Cole had died Deglan properly buried the boy, let his friends hold a funeral and allowed them a mourning period. They did not have to train then and Y/N spent his time at Cole’s grave, heart heavy and full of guilt.
One day he had a breakdown, he blamed himself for Cole’s death and he felt the urge to hurt himself - because he should have been the one to die, he should have gone with that magician, it had been his turn - Deglan had given him a good punch and then an even better hug to calm him down.
Y/N’s dreams had revolved around that embrace for several months when Deglan had gone out on the path, his heartbeat like an echo in his ears and his mentor’s scent and strong arms engulfed him in his sleep.
His dreams changed during these months and more often than not he would wake up sweaty in the morning and he hurried to clean his clothes before his friends would wake up.
Due to these fantasies, his heart thundered in his ears whenever the older witcher would get too close after his return.
There was something special between them, their bond was more than just apprentice and mentor, Y/N fully believed that and allowed himself to dream.
It only took one summer for Y/N’s thoughts to get captivated by Deglan. Five more for him to finally admit that his feelings for the man were more than just admiration and two winters for him to realize that he wanted, needed Deglan and him to become lovers.
And then one night only, for his older self to learn that he had imagined everything between them, that he was a blind fool...
-
It had been just a normal evening if one ignored the fact that Y/N and his friends had finally reached the end of their training and would become full-grown witchers in about one moon. Soon they would set out alone on the Path for the first time. And simultaneously the day drew near on which Y/N planned to confess his feelings.
At first, it had been just a daydream but the eye contact he had shared with his mentor in the past weeks had only made his feelings stronger and so he decided to gather his courage to confess the day before he would leave for the Path. In case something would go wrong, he could leave quietly, although he did not actually fret about this, he was convinced that Deglan liked him as well.
The aspiring witchers were sitting in the evening hall, drinking ale and playing Gwent after a fulfilling meal, while their mentors told stories and their younger peers listened to them intently.
Suddenly, the door got thrown open and Deglan, followed by the current leader Rennes and two other drunk witchers entered the hall.
Deglan and the two others had gone down the mountains a few days ago because a noble had sent a letter about a beast that woke up early from its hibernation. It seemed like they had just returned.
“Fuck, Deglan, why is it always you? That lady... Those lips are not just good for talking, you know that personally, right? Tell me and the lads about it!”
Y/N turned his head at the mention of his mentor’s name and he put down the cards in his hands to find the man among the newcomers. He hoped Deglan came back unscathed.
The drunk witchers whistled loudly and patted Deglan’s shoulders expectantly after they had sat down on one of the tables next to the fire.
Y/N's eyes found the older man and his heart pounded faster. The ale made him slightly drowsy and his imagination was running wild after seeing how Deglan's shirt was torn at the front, showing his strong abdominal muscles and his impressive scars. He didn’t seem to have any injuries and the h/c haired witcher sighed in relief.
Lewd thoughts rushed through his mind while he watched the man and he remembered one of the daydreams he had in their latest lecture. He moved in his seat and gripped his thigh to calm down before he would embarrass himself.
His mentor swatted the hands of one of the other witchers away and said something incoherent, while Vesemir, the young boy Deglan had brought back a few months ago, hurried to get some ale from the barrels in the corner and gave each of the newcomers a mug.
“We all saw her eyes, she was like a bitch in heat next to her husband, the poor lad. You’ve been warming her bed, have you not? While that old fart rots away, you cheeky fucker!” hollered one of the drunk witchers before downing his drink in one gulp.
Deglan lowered his head, as if he was embarrassed and gruffly answered:
“Can’t believe I told you about that...”
These quiet-spoken words echoed loudly in Y/N’s ears due to his mutated hearing. Y/N blinked. The conversations in the hall turned muffled as his heartbeat resounded loudly in his ears and he lowered his eyes to look at his hands which he unconsciously formed into fists.
You’ve been warming her bed... Can’t believe I told you...
Something in Y/N made an ugly noise. Barmin looked up from his cards and tilted his head, worried. His friend opened his mouth and said something but Y/N could not hear it.
Deglan was sleeping with some noblewoman.
It made sense.
He was a witcher and they did have an insatiable urge for sex. It was a side effect of the alchemic experiments and for them it was natural. They even had a lecture about it during their first training years.
But for Y/N, who had experienced the carnal desire several times already since his completion of the trials and who used his hands to deal with the problem, it had been somehow logical that Deglan would not choose to lay with any women.
His mentor was usually never involved in any of the lewd discussions of the older witchers, so he naturally assumed that Deglan did not bed any ladies ever.
Y/N must have brainwashed himself into thinking that the older man stayed in his room and fucked himself while thinking about him, that’s at least what he had been doing.
But it seemed like he got it all wrong.
It was his own delusion and the realization that he had been wrong all this time hit him like a punch in the throat. It left him breathless.
He felt betrayed - he had no reason to feel betrayed, Deglan was not even aware of this... possessive mess of emotions in his chest that he felt for him - and the realization that whatever feelings and dreams of a shared future Y/N had for Deglan were probably useless dawned on him.
Fenri’s words from all those years ago once again echoed in his mind.
“Men loving men is gross.”
An image of Deglan with a beautiful woman appeared in his head. His mentor held her close, one of his hands on her hip and the other held her hands and the man smiled, one of these crooked but beautiful smiles he only seemed to show when Y/N and he were alone.
And it hurt. It fucking hurt.
He was unable to transform the image, he could not take the place of that woman because he was as tall as Deglan by now and his spine did not have a soft curve and his hands could not be covered entirely by Deglan’s and all the stupid romance tales Robin dumped on them during their breaks did not entail two men with scars and rough, blister-covered hands and so he could not see himself next to Deglan because it was not meant to be.
The shitty fairy tale romance he had spun in his mind would never come to life.
The hope and delusion he had for all these years shriveled in his heart and died.
He had been wrong. The bond he felt between him and Deglan could not be what he had imagined.
Y/N was an orphan, his parents had had no need for him, he had been a waste of space and that was why they dumped him on the orphanage’s doorsteps, and while he did eventually find a home in the witcher’s keep - a home for the outcasts of society - he apparently remained an outsider even here.
An outcast among outcasts, was this not the fucking worst?
Y/N cursed the experiments that gave him better hearing, he cursed the witcher who brought him to the school, he cursed his heart for once again choosing an unreachable person and he cursed the world for making him the way he was.
And he cursed Deglan for treating him so kindly, as if he were special, as if there was something between them, something that could grow and turn into love and make them soulmates.
His mentor probably only treated him better because he had been praised as an exceptional student, a perfect test subject for experiments and a great fighter.
Not because he saw who Y/N really was, what he longed for...
How could he even think about confessing his feelings?!
He had to stifle a hollow laugh because of the irony and before Barmin or Fenri or Milan or any other of their table’s occupants could say anything, he abruptly stood up and left the hall.
His way led him past the table where Deglan was sitting but Y/N’s eyes remained fixed on the door and even when his mentor called out his name, he did not turn around.
He disappeared behind the wooden door of the hall and missed the dark look in Deglan's eyes as the man watched the retreating back of the younger witcher.
He missed his mentor’s furious gaze on the drunk witcher who spouted nonsense and Rennes’ commentary that Deglan would never fuck some random noble woman, in fact, he wasn’t sure if the guy even had a dick because he never lusted after any woman, no matter if she were a virgin, succubus or a literal goddess.
Okay! I am done watching. Here are my thoughts, somewhat linear, hopefully comprehendable, I guess it contains spoilers, like all of them, and complaining. Don’t like it? Don’t read it:
-the opening song sucks. Like it’s trying to be a children’s rhyme but it’s badly done
-WHY do they pronounce it CATEwynn... Kädwen is really not that goddamn hard.
-yeah you made it anime but why for the love of everything did you have to give us tentacle content
-I hate opening boys voice actor (actress?) (And I also hate young Illyana’s voice actress, she sounds just like how all American women are synchronised in German and it’s terrible)
-They try to make Vesemir so ~edgy and cool~ with the shit he says... no ur not. like stfu and fight the damn monster.
-When I said his character is like Dean Winchester meets Avatar Aang (character and skills wise) when I was at minute 4 I was accurate, and I absolutely despise that. Makes him wholly uncool. His ~not like the other boys~ attitude makes it even worse.
-they mangled the Leshen... they made it ugly and uncool, sorry you can’t convince me otherwise. Also BAD for not like... explaining why Leshen exist?? That they are protectors of the forest...?
-oh good gods THE FUCKING ATTACK ON TITAN RETRACTABLE CHAIN WHY DID THEY DO THAT I HATE IT SO MUCH. I’ll only say it once... Witcher work is pretty down to Earth come the end of the day... not like that.
(it’ll go on for a looong time after this cut. Take a few minuts.)
-the king’s castle.... why does it look like 17th/18th century WHYYYY also why is the court looking like that style, why is the king looking like Louis the 16th or whatever. No! they are pissing in the goddamn corners that are strewn with straw all sitting at a table not... whatever they are trying to sell with their idk noble’s parliament
-why did they give the elves these... protruding giant ears... aren’t they supposed to be like unreal beautiful? They look like Dumbo fled the circus
-hahaha Kitsu they are trying to be soooo clever. Like noone’s ever heard the word Kitsune
-I could have gone without having to look at naked Vesemir :/
-I don’t understand Filavandrel’s “imagine if you witchers laboured for more than just thrills and coin” ??? like... let him have a good time? he’s SUPPOSED to be ousted by society lmfao. (apparently not at this point according to whatever the show is trying to portray)
-the fucking donkey is making horse noises. and yeah it’s subtitled with [horse whinnies] couldn’t you find donkey noises???
-they clearly made Illyana a #girlboss.
-if that was an intentional MY CABBAGES innuendo I’ll take it lmao.
-when that Witcher that find’s them is like “they’d chop your hands off in Nilfgaard and make you wear them around your neck” Sir?? We are in the Northern Realms? Which are ass backwards? MUCH MORE ASS BACKWARDS THAN NILFGAARD? You coulda just said they’d enslave you, because that would be actually accurate!!! But.. THAT? Have you even BEEN to Nilfgaard?
-also sir why does your sword not have a sheath... u just running around with that sharp pointy thing all unprotected?
-I hate the “exorcism” scene... They HAD to put boobs in there didn’t they... Also “demons” “mahr” DECIDE what is it?? in canon demons are something completely else arfdkjg
-they made Vesemir ~not like the other boys~ and BOY does it suck. “oooooh I’m gonna become a coooool Witcher, not that there SHOULD BE A FUCKING STIGMA AGAINST THEM IN CANON”
-”saving the continent from [...] mad sorcerers” Illyana I need you to sit down with Geralt for a couple of minutes and let him tell you how he got his ass whooped
-okay I like his little crush on Illyana I admit it. He is a romantic at heart as he should be.
-WHY IS HE RUNNING AWAY IN WINTER. WHYYY.
-HOW DOES HE FIND KAER MORHEN. He should literally die on the way because it’s so goddamn hidden and dangerous to get there.
-Why does Kaer Morhen look like the Viper keep from Gwent. I’m only asking once.
-whatever is name is, I’m gonna headcanon that he’s just small and not a dwarf <3
-they really pronounced it Naseer.....
-at this point I noticed that the only Black people so far were the family that got fridged at the start+the boy that escaped. (I mean yeah there later is also the mage, but he doesn’t have like.. a big role? And he also dies) Lauren.... your representation...
-I do like the soundeffects for their sword against sword fights.
-Vesemir is so fucking dismissive of the other kids’ trauma of getting ripped away from their families ~not like the other boys~ syndrome strikes again.
-okay... now the Red Swamp scene (first of all how did that boy’s father know about that place that literally makes no sense)... THIS IS BULLSHIT. THIS IS STUPID. WHY WOULD THEY SENT UNMUTATED KIDS AGAINST REAL POWERFUL MONSTERS. THIS IS A GODDAMN WASTE OF HUMAN RESSOURCES??? THERE IS A REASON WITCHERS WERE CREATED. BECAUSE THEY ARE SPECIALISTS. BECAUSE IT WAS NECESSARY TO HAVE EXPERTS. WHY DO THEY HAVE THIS “Separate the wheat from the chaff“ SCENE??
-”imagine beasts engineered to wipe out the old races and the elves” + “mages made monsters and then witchers to kill them” Perdón???????? I mean yeah Mages do all kinds of weird genetic experimentation because half of them are megalomaniacs but... none of this happened? Not even as a thought experiment?
-The fucking envelope. Envelopes are like... 19th century babes.. In ye olde days you just folded the letter in on itself and then sealed it shut with wax. Yes I will make this anachronism (don’t ride my ass about Witcher being fantasy, there is a clear stylistic line drawn out in the books) it’s own point.
-The Trial of the Grasses scene is nice! Good! Too bad we never see Vesemir suffer from the goddamn Trauma (or the other boys) it inflicts on them! Why show torture if you don’t show it’s aftermath. Even fucking Supernatural managed to do that.
-The Falwick rip-off should’ve had a little more screentime to present his standpoint better.
-”the people’s faith in the monarchy already wavers” so we doing French revolution?? THERE IS A BIG DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MONARCHY AS AN INSTITUTION AND A MONARCH HIMSELF
-Illyana is here and I like the twist about her. And thank god she has a different voice actress now.
-that’s not how you ride horses... For fuck’s sake can ANY anime please show horses actually be ridden with “tight” reins? not that saggy “haha if I whip then reins on the horses neck like I’m driving a cart it’s gonna go” shit?
-Kitsu baby... they made you naked and then you aren’t even a vampire :/ Please illusion yourself some clothes on. And for love’s sake drop the Gollum voice. Also yeah I’ve now figuered out you’re an aguara. not really hard.
-Why is the sorceress using bow and arrow... Is this like a nod to Vilgefortz regenerating swords from twn? This is a no from me.
-I’m gonna say this only once. There is not enough differentiation between using the silver and the steel sword. The Witcher’s trade is not handled with the care and detail it deserves #workingclassrepresentation
-I like the style of the elven ruins.
-I understand that they are giving us the ~aguara origin story~ here but.. It’s not good. I don’t like it. I think I’ll get back to it when I complain about the ~plot twist~
-I hate Filavandrel hopping about these parts. Like no.. what are you even doing here? You should be like.. picking flowers and starcing in Dol Blathanna. This ain’t your territory. The way he is so idk cloistered is the wrong word, but unfamiliar and shut off from humans in The Edge of the World does NOT fit him here. Also... Vesemir would never call him “Fil”
-”It was not a Question of Price” look! look! we dropped a story title! We are giving you scraps!
-Okay, here are my thoughts on the big plottwist that Deglan and R... that mage idk forgot his name (Reidreich??) were making monsters... NO. BAD. WRONG. WHY ARE THEY EVEN GIVING A HINT OF JUSTIFICATION FOR THE POGROM???? ISN’T IT BETTER TO TELL A STORY WHERE HUMANS CAN BE JUST SO EASILY MANIPULATED INTO HATING AND PERSECUTING PEOPLE THAT ARE PERCEIVED TO BE DIFFERENT BUT DEEP DOWN ARE ACTUALLY JUST... normal people.
-how the fuck does Illyana know where Kaer Morhen is. it makes no goddamn sense. Also why does she say to Vesemir that he’s different... like... see my point above. But their kiss was sweet. I want to see more immortal character kissing their actually old love interest.
-about the kids during the battle hiding and then running: They should’ve made it a little like the Battle of Helm’s Deep except all the kids die too for shock value to show how goddamn fucked up it is. I mean I had to put in the age restriction code, give me something to work with.
- Haha now the MONSTERS hunt the WITCHERS.. ROLE REVERSAL.. no thank you. You could have shown that Witchers are NOT the complete superhumans they are made out to be in this anime. That yes, they can be clobbered to death by a mob. by HUMANS.
-the fucking attack on titan chain again. WHY. WHY ARE YOU TORTURING ME LIKE THIS.
-since when can swords cut solid stone.. like no offense to Witcher swords, but they ain’t *that* special
-I said it before and I’ll say it again: The monster fights are treated way too casually.
-I’m seeing right now I barely wrote anything about the sorceress whose name I can’t remember. But tbh I didn’t care about her and was Vesemir supposed to have like.. idk killed her mom or sumthing? Also fuck you for giving her a Yennefer style necklace and making her look like an MMORPG player character. have some taste.
-I swear when they leave Kaer Morhen you can shortly hear a theme from the Games OST. Otherwise their OST is not that impressive.
-Illyana’s death is said and I did like the romance arc.
Kind of a weird headcanon but I was thinking. So in Nigntmare Baby Geralt is bald, adult Geralt has long flowing white hair. During the sacking, I think Eskel mentions to Lady Zerbst that Geralt tried to run away. Also Deglan seems a lot harsher than Ves, so my thought is what if Baby geralt was really proud of his hair or thought the white hair was cool and when he tried to run away after they caught him and brought him back Deglan shaved his head as punishment?
Master Deglan of the school of the wolf. I really love the movie nightmare of the wolf. As much as I dislike the timeline of it , it is still a beautiful movie.
A Wolf’s Heart | [Deglan x M!Reader] | The Witcher | Part VII
Note: I’m proud (more like ashamed haha...) to announce that the one year anniversary of this requested fic has already passed, like oh god... Ngl I struggled so hard to find the direction I wanted to take this, I had several ideas but mid-writing I wanted to change it again and now we have this. Writing is hard. This will be a life-time lesson for me. But ey depression is really a big hurdle sometimes so yeah... anyways, please enjoy and once again, sorry for the wait :)
Fandom: The Witcher
Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Swearing, Depression, Angst, Slight OOC, Non-Canon Story, Century Typical Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Spiraling, Injuries, Self-Concious Reader, Misunderstandings, Mentions of Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of Addiction
Summary: After having suffered heavy injuries at the beginning of winter and being unable to return to Kaer Morhen, Y/N tries to mend his relationships slowly by approaching one of his friends but someone thwarts his plans and he has not yet prepared himself to meet that person again.
Word Count: 5.05k
Taglist: @thatsequoia
Note 2: For all the people wondering about the postal service in this story - like how the fuck did those letters find the witchers on the Path... Magic baby 😎
The name of Deglan’s horse (Borsuk) translates to badger.
This part mentions Vergen, which appears in the 2nd Witcher game but I haven’t played this game, so my description is inaccurate.
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VIII, Part IX
Masterlist
Deglan once thought he was a patient man. He was wrong.
Birke was in two weeks and he was about to lose his fucking mind.
Y/N was invading every second of his days and he had a hard time focusing on training the new brats and lecturing them. Every little thing reminded him of the younger witcher in some way or another.
In every nook of the school's keep, he could conjure up a memory of them together and if he couldn't touch the other soon, hold him in his arms, kiss him, he would go on a rampage.
His bad mood could be sensed not only by his apprentices but also by the other witchers. Most of them had already left on the Path, the bunch he trained for example, but some were still here. And all of them were known to be lazy and therefore, their presence stoked his fury whenever he saw them chattering away and lazing around in the Evening hall.
The fiery annoyance was visible in his eyes and so most avoided him whenever they crossed his path.
While their presence had been a curse, the presence of one peculiar younger witcher ended up as a blessing.
Wendir, Y/N's close friend, was one of the men who still lingered in the school and one peculiar Saturday evening, he ended up knocking on Deglan’s door.
He was working on his next lecture when he heard the knock and he raised an eyebrow when he came face to face with the witcher he had trained alongside of Y/N, Fenri, Barmin and the three others.
The brown-haired man looked serious and a suspicious feeling rose in his chest.
"I received a letter.”
Those four words were enough for Deglan's heartbeat to speed up.
Wordlessly he received the paper from the other and he began to read.
Wendir,
I write to you in hope that you will try to understand my thinking and actions with an objective view. I don't dare send these words to Fenri or Barmin because I must have made them angry and I expect them to doubt my words, which they have every right to do. You're free to do so as well, though I beg you to try and see my reasoning before making your opinion about me.
As you may know, I haven't returned to Kaer Morhen this winter and have yet to explain why I couldn't.
At this point, I'm certain you're aware... of my secret, but please do not blame my absence on that.
You might have already left the keep and though I am uncertain of your next location I ask you to meet me in Vergen and give me the opportunity to explain myself.
I’m not there yet but I am close and as slow as I currently am, I expect to arrive around the time of Birke and if you still ride like you did when we were younger you possibly will as well.
I hope to see you soon.
Y/N, Vengerberg
If you could spare some herbs for me... An accident happened and I lost most of my stash...
Deglan read the letter twice and it took him less than a second to make a decision after he read the last sentence again.
He pointed his finger at Wendir and his voice held a determined tone:
"You saddle your horse and Borsuk."
The younger man blinked.
"Right now?"
Deglan pushed the letter into Wendir’s hands and began to button up his shirt.
"Right now. And fucking hurry up! I'll go and talk to Rennes before we depart."
Wendir scratched his head but the brown-haired witcher turned around and hurried down the hall.
Deglan’s lips formed a grim smile as he pulled his witcher medaillon from underneath his shirt and then he turned around and quickly grabbed a few things from his shelves and stuffed them in the bags he had already prepared weeks ago.
His heartbeat quickened as he put on his fur cloak and his sword scabbards over it. He loosened their belts a bit and then grabbed his armoured gloves.
Almost, he thought as he put them on as well.
He glanced at the papers on his table. The lesson plan for the next few days, the unfinished suggestion letter for another parcours course.
Fuck his lectures, fuck the brats he had to teach and fuck Rennes.
He would leave right now, whether their leader wanted that or not. He would not ask for permission this time.
Quickly he wrote down a few words on a piece of paper, left the note on his bed and then he grabbed his bags and walked out of the room to go and find some herbs he could bring with him for Y/N.
Half an hour later Deglan and Wendir left through the gate.
Brace yourself, bastard. I’m done being patient, Y/N.
-
Lisica followed the path to Vergen in a slow but steady walk. The mare seemed content to take it easy for once and her ears moved around to take in all the sounds of the surrounding wildlife.
Her rider absent-mindedly petted her mane and was deep in thought.
Will he come?
Y/N had hesitated at first but Hannes convinced him to write a letter to one of his friends.
At first, he thought about Barmin but something inside of him was too self-conscious to write to his best friend. It was the fact that he had not sent the other a letter in the last few months, he addressed the one where he apologized for his absence to Fenri...
In the end, he chose Wendir, the youngest of their friend group. He might be more understanding in this situation than his best friend. The brunette was surprisingly the most rational besides Barmin. Probably because he had a lot of time to think since he always used to avoid chores and his training in the school’s keep.
Fond memories rose and he lifted his head to squint at the sun. He still had to ride for a few more hours before he would reach the next bigger village. And from there it would take him another 3 days until he would arrive in Vergen.
The prospect of more aching leg muscles and a sore butt caused him to smile grimly.
He had wanted to buy a new saddle for months now but he did not have the money. He had spent most of it on his unexpected stay in Vengerberg and alcohol. The druid, who more or less did a good job, had been expensive and even though Iven gave him a discount on his stay in the tavern, Y/N’s pockets were lighter than he liked.
His annoyance only grew as he thought of how he spent the coins he had received from Fenri’s hunt.
He sighed and patted his healing leg. It still hurt a bit and that was why he was travelling at such a slow speed. He didn’t want to hinder the healing process so he was riding at snail’s pace.
On one side, it was relaxing, on the other, it was boring and it gave his mind a lot of time to wander and to mull over his upcoming stay in Vergen.
He really hoped Wendir would come.
He needed someone by his side because the prospect of having lost his friends and giving up on the love of his life was filling his head with dark thoughts and things he did not want to think about at all.
He sighed deeply.
I hope I can still fix this...
Anxious, his hand found one of the wine bottles in his saddle bag, while his other played with the blue cloth around his neck. .
-
3 days later Y/N lowered himself to the ground and led Lisica inside the stable of Vergen’s only inn, The Cauldron, with bowlegs.
Every muscle in his body ached and the dwarf who had pointed him towards the stables at the outskirts of the city and who he paid for Lisica’s stay, chuckled when he saw the hooded figure stiffly walk into the building.
The stable was made out of stone like all the other buildings in the town and since the sun had yet to set, the lanterns inside weren’t lit and therefore, only few specks of light entered the barn. Not that the darkness was a problem for his eyes.
He rolled his tight shoulders and examined the building. It was quite big with 12 horse boxes made of wooden walls that reached the middle of his torso. Most of them seemed occupied by horses of all sizes and colors.
The witcher led Lisica into the first unoccupied box near the entrance. Next to it was one with a white pony.
The little guy - who most likely belonged to one of the many dwarves in town - looked curiously over the wooden wall and Lisica greeted him with a snort, while her owner took off her bridle. She stretched her neck, and he followed her example and groaned as he stretched his whole body, her bridle still in his left hand. He stepped out after giving Lisica a head pat and hung it on the designated hook outside the door.
Next to the right wall of the box was a saddle stand and a small shelf with some brushes. He made a mental note to use them to reward his mare.
She had been very patient for the last day when they basically rode for 24 hours straight. He would give her a well-deserved massage and make her coat look the shiniest among the horses in the stable.
He was about to step into the box again to get his bags and remove Lisica’s saddle when he noticed a dark brown horse in the box right next to the white pony’s. He could only see the ass of the animal, but it had a scar on its rump that he could recognize easily and relief washed over him like a big wave.
Wendir was here. He had come.
A bit overwhelmed with joy, he quickly entered the box again and rifled through his saddlebags, while ignoring Lisica’s curious headbutts. He found the carrots he had bought from a farmer and gave one to his mare. She gobbled it up while eyeing the other one, but that carrot wasn’t for her.
He temporarily closed the gate to Lisica’s stable and then he walked down the hallway of the barn towards the box with the familiar horse.
In the dim light he saw how Wendir’s mare Katya was dozing while relaxing her right hind leg.
Based on the straw in her fur and some not-fully dried sweat stains, he guessed that his friend still rode like a member of the Wild Hunt and barely arrived before him.
“Hey girl”, he said in a low whisper, and she turned her head.
He held the carrot over the box gate, and it appeared as if she wasn’t interested at first. He frowned.
“Did he urge you like a demon again?”, he asked the horse, remembering the riding lessons he had with his friends, and he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Katya huffed as if she was agreeing.
Tiredly, she stepped up to the gate and he petted her softly as she ate the carrot.
He was cooing her name, telling her how happy he was to see her, while scratching her head.
If someone saw him, the witcher who stank like a drunkard and looked like someone had used a plow on his face, talking in a high voice, they would probably shake their heads in disbelief and maybe disgust. But he was just too excited.
In maybe half an hour he would explain himself to Wendir and hopefully the other would understand him. His ugly mug would serve as proof and then his friend would help him calm Fenri’s anger and Barmin’s likely disappointment. He could see it before his eyes, and he breathed out as if a big weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
After realizing that he didn’t have more carrots, Katya had enough of his petting, and she walked away from him to return to her former dozing position.
Y/N saw that as a cue to take care of Lisica and returned to her box, where he took off her saddle and put it on the saddle stand. He grabbed one of the brushes and for the next 15 minutes he brushed her and spoke to her in a low voice, while she relaxed and nibbled away on the hay in the corner.
After making sure his mare was comfortable for the night, he grabbed his bags and left the building. It was quite dark now and, in the distance, he could see lights in the houses.
He was about to slowly follow the stony path to The Cauldron when he heard a snort and when he turned his head, he noticed the small pasture next to the stable. Unlike he had thought before when he entered the stables, there actually was a horse in it.
Something put pressure on his chest.
A few feet away, behind the wooden fence stood an ash grey stallion.
He knew that horse well. He had learned mounted combat on it.
Memories bubbled to the surface, and he felt sick. The sweet aftertaste of Cintrian Faro suddenly tasted foul.
He remembered hours of training and having sore muscles, falling into the dirt, getting kicked after agitating Borsuk too much, hands that helped him out of the saddle, hands that checked him for blisters, hands that had put medicine on the hoof-shaped bruise on his back, hands that he had dreamed about so many times-
Y/N whirled around, his heartbeat thundering loudly in his ears and made one step, two, three- before someone grabbed him by his cloak and dragged him towards the side of the stable.
His attacker hurled him against the stone wall and the impact left him dazed and pain shot through his body from his head to his still healing leg. His collar was seized harshly, the other man basically carried all his weight, and he felt the breath of his assailant on his face.
Y/N didn’t dare open his eyes.
“You goddamn bloody bastard”, said an agitated voice that he hadn’t heard in almost three years now. His heart quivered and he turned his head away instinctively. His hand let go of his bags in defeat.
Fuck was all he could think at that moment. Bloody fucking hell.
“Look at me, you fucker.”
The witcher breathed out shakily, and then opened his eyes to peer at the other man out of the corner of his vision.
Deglan looked the same as three years ago, besides maybe a few more grey strands in his hair and beard and some wrinkles. His jaw was still framed by a magnificent beard, and his sharp cheekbones combined with his broken nose embodied a handsome roughness. He looked better than ever.
Y/N had a hard time breathing.
But Deglan’s face was dark, a blazing fury was visible in his yellow eyes and his lips were pulled into a snarl.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment”, growled the older witcher and had he said those words to him in any other moment, Y/N would have felt a sharp tug in his lower body, but due to these circumstances, he only felt panic rising in his chest.
“...S… ‘s good to see you, Deglan...”
At first, he thought that his low murmur was left unnoticed, but his former mentor rose an eyebrow and a second later, he frowned and sniffed the air.
“You smell like shit. How much booze did you drink on your way here? Did you lose your way during the winter and end up in a Brewery instead of Kaer Morhen?”
All of Deglan’s words stung like hell. Fuck, they were a low blow and Y/N winced inwardly. Because as much as it stung, it was halfway true.
He sunk more into himself, and his mentor had to hold him up.
The lack of any reply didn’t seem to sit well with Deglan, so he grabbed him by the chin and roughly turned his head.
“Care to look me in the eye when I speak to y-”
Y/N’s eyes were downcast, and his face was covered in the shadows of his hood, but this didn’t stop the witcher’s eyes from spotting the new ugly scars across his face.
His mentor sucked in some air sharply and he automatically formed his hands into fists. The h/c haired witcher digged his nails into his skin trying to ground himself but this situation was so much worse than any nightmare scenario he had ever imagined, it was of no use.
The grip on his collar left and Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as Deglan’s hand entered his periphery. An absurd fear of getting hit entered his mind, but his mentor did no such thing.
He touched his cheek, light as a feather and it was so unexpected after his rough handling and talk that Y/N’s limbs turned weak.
His breath quickened automatically as the man he still loved so passionately traced the scar tissue in his face with an unreadable expression.
“...A forktail. It got me good”, he said awkwardly and tried to ignore the growing heat that crept up his neck.
Deglan remained silent, his eyebrows scrunched and with his other hand, he pushed off the hood of Y/N’s cloak to fully reveal the length of his scars, his chipped right ear and his disrupted hairline.
Someone breathed out shakily, Y/N wasn’t sure if it was himself or the other man, but he felt extremely vulnerable and exposed.
This is the worst...
He felt so embarrassed, so ashamed- Talented my ass, if he remembered the last 2 years, he wasn’t exactly the prime example of a good witcher.
Standing in front of Deglan now, he felt inferior.
He hadn’t bathed in weeks, he smelled like a drunkard and was one too. He lost all of his herbs and elixirs, had barely any money left and looked disfigured, and on top of it all, he didn’t even consider the possibility of Wendir’s letter getting into the wrong hands.
Deglan had either forced his friend to read Y/N’s letter to him or his brown-haired friend betrayed him and went to his former mentor by free will. Not so clever, are we…
Anger churned in his chest, but it was overshadowed by the growing black hole that seemed to suck every snippet of hope away from him when he looked at the stony expression of his mentor, the snippets of hope that had begun to burn again after Deglan touched him with such tenderness.
He must be disappointed that his “talented” apprentice let himself get mangled by a monster to such an extent. Why else would he look so stern? There was no other explana-
“Fuck, I worried so much.”
Hands grabbed Y/N’s arms and suddenly there was a weight on his shoulder. Deglan’s head pressed against the thick cloth of his cloak, and he heard him sigh deeply.
His heart pounded loudly in his ear. He blinked. And didn’t react. He stood still as a statue, while his former mentor clung onto him, his fingers digging into the leather armor that covered his wrists. The warmth of the other man was almost unbearable, and Y/N’s breath turned erratic once more.
“L-Let go please”, he croaked, something was blocking his throat.
The older witcher lifted his head and halted. Y/N could practically see how his pupils began to focus on the blue cloth around his throat and had Deglan said something in that moment, he would’ve been unable to hear anything because his heartbeat was thundering so loudly in his chest.
Fuck, oh lord-
“I-“, he began but before he could find the words to formulate the dozen dumb excuses in his mind, Deglan grabbed his head and took his breath away.
The kiss was sloppy and more forceful than anything else, but it ignited the dying fire in Y/N’s hollow chest, and before he could even think about it he found himself leaning into the touch subconsciously.
Their lips parted soon after and he breathed in hastily, feeling light-headed from the lack of oxygen and the fact that Deglan just fucking kissed him.
The younger witcher grabbed his mentor’s upper arms, keeping him at arm’s length away.
“What- what are you doing??” he whispered, staring at the thigh that invaded the space between his legs and his lip quivered as his mind spun from shock.
“Don’t run away anymore, Y/N. You bloody fool.”
He didn’t have time to process these words.
Deglan kissed him again, he pressed his body against his and in the dark of the night, against the cold stone wall of the stable, Y/N fell into the abyss.
His body was going up in flames, every part that Deglan touched started burning and the fire couldn’t be extinguished.
His mentor’s beard scratched his cheeks and his tongue sent shivers down his spine. His left leg was giving out, but it was nonchalantly ignored as the older witcher held him up with his arms and his leg on which Y/N was basically sitting by now.
The friction against his pants was driving him crazy.
Y/N moaned but the sound was silenced by Deglan’s greedy lips, and the two men lost themselves in the fiery heat of the other.
-
Sometime later he recovered and was suddenly he was sitting at a table in the tavern, one of his best friends in front of him while his mentor stared holes into the side of his head from the seat next to him. His bags were tucked under the stool he was currently sitting on.
He didn’t know how he even got there, still dazed from the sudden development. His face flushed as he remembered how his mentor basically devoured his lips and every spot that Deglan’s hands had touched tingled.
“Y/N?” Wendir asked and he blinked to regain his focus.
“Yes?” he croaked; his voice was rough, and he coughed.
Wendir gesticulated at his face, the brown-haired witcher was frowning since the moment he saw his friend’s red rimmed scars and his glossy eyes, as if he had cried just a while ago.
“What happened?”
He opened his mouth to answer but Deglan interrupted him:
“A forktail attacked him.”
Y/N stared at the older man in confusion while Deglan returned his look with a burning gaze. He gulped and turned his head to stare at the wood grain of the table. Because of that he missed Wendir’s raised eyebrow.
“I… I uh was on my way to Hagge when the bastard pounced on me. He surprised me, and I was careless”, he lowered his head and stroke his hair, clenching the other hand into a fist. It wasn’t exactly fun retelling that embarrassing moment again.
He felt totally out of it. All the things he had wanted to tell his friend were lost in the tornado that currently swept through his mind.
Deglan kissed me his brain screamed and between the excitement and the shock he was left dazed and speechless. So, he just told Wendir and Deglan the most important thing he wanted his friend to know:
“I was on my way to Kaer Morhen, you have to believe me.”
He hesitantly looked up at the other two and his gaze met Deglan’s. His mentor looked at him, his yellow eyes filled with something Y/N couldn’t quite fathom. Something flitted across his face and like many times before he wished he could hear what was going on inside his mentor’s head.
“I believe you.”
Wendir cut the moment between them short, but relief trickled through the h/c haired witcher and the tension in his shoulders disappeared. His eyes met his friend’s, and both smiled weakly.
“We know how old scars look on a witcher and yours are still fairly new” said Wendir and he gave their mentor a meaningful look.
Said man remained quiet, his expression was blank, hiding his feelings like a mask and it worried Y/N endlessly. But before he could say anything the inn keeper arrived and placed three jugs of beer down on their table.
“If ye want more, get it yerself, there-” the short man pointed at the barrels lined up at the wall across the tavern. The giant wood barrels were barely visible behind the number of patrons currently inside. “I’ll put it on yer tab. Ask my daughter if you want to pay.” He nodded at a young woman who walked past with some dishes in her hands.
The witchers all expressed their thanks and the inn keeper left, Y/N downed his drink in a few gulps, and then was about to stand up to get another and to momentarily flee but Deglan reached out lightning quick and grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
“If I were you, I’d stop drinking so much.”
His mentor’s hand burned like fire on his skin and for a second the h/c haired witcher thought about their moment next to the stables and how much his breath must have smelled, and he ducked his head and nodded slowly.
Wendir looked at them with a strange expression but when he saw how Deglan watched his friend with eagle eyes after taking his hand back, his own eyes grew big and the corners of his mouth twitched.
Oh, he saw what was going on. There must have been a reason why his mentor and Y/N had entered the tavern at the same time, the latter clearly dazed as if something life-changing had happened.
“Congratulations”, he said while lifting his jug, an amused smirk dancing on his lips.
Y/N stared at him and mirrored the gesture visibly confused but before he could ask why Wendir congratulated him, the brunette began to talk about his and Deglan’s journey to Vergen.
The h/c haired witcher barely payed attention, Wendir suffering Deglan’s silence went in one ear and out the other, his head still back at the stable, Deglan’s words echoing in his mind.
“Don’t run away anymore, Y/N.”
Run away? Did this really mean what he was thinking? Was it all a misunderstanding? Did Deglan actually-
“Okay, okay, that’s enough. Look at him, he’s fucking tired. He is not the only one. We should all go to bed, I already paid for our rooms.”
Deglan interrupted Wendir’s dramatic retelling with rolling eyes and stood up, his empty jug in one hand, some coins for the payment of their drinks in another. His words interrupted Y/N’s racing thoughts and he felt as if he returned to reality.
As if...
“Oh, yes, I need to ask for my room.”
“Wait-”
He stood up - his hands taking the bags from underneath his seat - and due to one of the barmaids manouvering herself and 6 jugs between the tables and bodies, Y/N evaded Deglan’s outstretched hand and he hurried to the inn keeper, who had retreated back behind the counter where he was cleaning the used jugs in a skilled fashion.
“I’d like to get a room please and a bath”, he said, a little breathless, rummaging through one of his saddle bags to look for his coin pouch.
“Not with one of the others, huh? There’s only one room left and it’s connected to the one next to it but ye can lock the door. I’m sure ye take what ye can get. Room plus bath costs 120 a night, another 15 if ye want hot water.”
Y/N didn’t really understand what he meant with his first words but he didn’t think about it too long because he could feel a certain someone stare holes into his back and it messed with his head.
“Uhh, yes, I’ll take that one. Here-” he handed the man the amount and some additional coins, “make sure the door stays closed. And I’ll take hot water please.”
The inn keeper nodded and then waved at his daughter, who hurried towards them as soon as she spotted her father.
“Take the lad upstairs and prepare a hot bath in the corner room.”
His daughter, a red-haired, busty young woman, looked him up and down, her eyes visibly frowning when she saw his scarred face, but she said nothing and instead took the key for the room from her father’s hand and then gestured for him to follow her.
The h/c haired witcher thanked the old man and then quickly followed her to the stairs. A look back showed him that Deglan was still watching him, his yellow eyes were dark and holding something predatory. Wendir behind him only grinned and gave him a little wave.
The woman led him to the first floor and to the room which was furthest away from the stairs. She unlocked the door and gave him the key without touching his skin.
“Here”, she stated and quickly retracted her hand. “I’ll come back with hot water in a few minutes. It will be fully prepared in about an hour.”
He nodded and quietly whispered his thanks, as her eyes darted everywhere but his face. He bit his lip and then walked into the room, where he placed his bags at the foot of the bed.
The room was small, there was only space for the bed, a chest in the left corner next to it and next to the door behind a folding screen was a wooden bath tub.
The door which connected this room to the one next to it, was small, smaller than his height but it seemed to be used regularly as no dust appeared on the door handle.
The daughter of the inn keeper took a bucket from behind the folding screen and then left him alone in the room, closing the door behind her.
Y/N sighed and sat down on the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands.
What the hell had just happened in the last 30 minutes? Was he dreaming?
A certain witcher asked himself the same question but due to different reasons.
