#answer: eist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

piceuscelus · 5 months

Note

t4t ciri/cerys, cerys is so determined to seduce ciri she doesn't realize how easy it's going to be (idk if you wanted, like, trans SPECIFIC prompts vs just prompts with trans characters? i do very much envision this as trans girls having slutty crushes on each other and being endearingly awkward about it bc maybe people haven't responded well to them in the past, or maybe ciri doesn't realize cerys is also trans? but also just a simple cute blushy t4t fuckfest would be great lol)

(i will send another, trashier prompt next)

hi i know this prompt was Forever Ago but i did NOT forget it

it just fuckin Refused To Go

but it went! finally! and now it's here! and it's even below my tumblr post limit! (it admittedly might not be exactly to the prompt. but)

it'll be going up on ao3 like, immediately after this ask posts in case anyone is terribly concerned about content tags but this one is Extremely Tame and soft

trans woman Ciri / nonbinary Cerys

It’s a pity, Ciri thinks, that she doesn’t make it back to the Isles very often. Of course, she knows perfectly well why she doesn’t – she rules both Nilfgaard and Cintra, and thus most of the southern half of the Continent. She’s entirely too busy to be galavanting off to Skellige without a purpose – her court will barely allow her the occasional Witchering break, and they only do that begrudgingly because if they don’t, she tends to start threatening to skewer diplomats. The likelihood of that stuffy lot agreeing to let her vacation to Skellige for no good reason is slim to none.

There is the upside, though, that she never has to bother with a week-long boat trip unless she has a hankering for being sea sick.

When she lands on solid ground, it’s bright and sunny and frigidly cold. She takes a deep breath and just revels in it for a moment, even as she starts to shiver, taking in the familiar smells and sounds.

Of course, as soon as someone notices her standing there in the courtyard, a commotion starts up.

She sighs, but tolerates the sudden influx of guards and their squires rushing over to investigate, and then, once they’ve assured themselves that she’s a known guest, if an unexpected one, the addition of half a dozen maids that arrive to fuss. All of them are bowing so low they may as well be kneeling – it would be faster and require less stumbling, at least – and stammering as they try to address her with an amount and type of formality that’s always been a bit foreign on the Isles.

When she can finally get a word in edgewise, she cuts straight to the chase. “Yes, thank you, where is Queen Cerys?”

One of the guards answers. “Her Majesty is with the jarls, out on the cliffs.”

Ciri raises an eyebrow. “What for?”

“It’s a tradition, Your Imperial Majesty,” another guard says, the capital letters and his unfamiliarity with her title obvious in the stilted, slow way he speaks. “A…rebirth, of sorts, for the new year. All of the jarls, the druids, and the Queen jump into the sea to be cleansed.”

“And several others, for the fun of it,” one of the squires adds, sounding almost bemused, as if he doesn’t quite understand how the dive could be fun.

Ciri isn’t entirely sure fun is the right word, really – she’d probably use thrill instead. She remembers, now, years and years ago, watching Eist do something similar – but it was in the summer, when the cold waters were a fairly refreshing shock, and not the tail end of fall, when falling into the sea could easily become a death sentence if you were stupid or sickly. She’d been allowed to jump then, too, though only into the shallows and not off the cliffside with the rest (for the sake of her grandmother’s blood pressure).

Then again, the line between the concept of fun and thrill is a thin one, and, well – she’d come to the Isles for fun, hadn’t she?

“Which shore are they on?”

– – – – –

When Ciri finally makes it up the cliff where the local nobility are making like ritual-minded lemmings, Cerys is just beginning to strip down to her underthings in preparation for her own jump. It appears she’s the last of the leaders to go, most of the jarls already soaked and shivering on the beach below.

She keeps her more lurid thoughts to herself, watching Cerys shuck her dress, and makes a split second decision to distract her mind from the gutter. “Aye! Time for a late arrival?”

The spears immediately pointed in her direction aren’t a shock, so she mostly ignores them, just stopping where she’s at and waiting.

“Don’t you lot recognize the damn Empress?” Cerys asks, laughing as everyone sort of sheepishly shuffles their weapons back to where they belong. She looks at Ciri to continue, “And don’t you know better than to barge into a group of Islanders unannounced?”

Ciri laughs, too, but doesn’t bother answering – it’s a rhetorical question, and they all know that really, she’s allowed to barge in wherever she’d like. She gestures to the edge of the cliff. “Well, may I join?”

Cerys also gestures to the cliff, but with an over-exaggerated, fake curtsy. “You may!”

Immediately, there are a handful of damp squires appearing at her side, hands held out, so she strips off and hands her clothes over. She only strips down to the same as Cerys, the single layer of underthings – she doesn’t particularly understand the point of wearing anything for this, but she’s also aware that her penchant for nudity is unusual, and is willing to follow the Queen’s lead.

“Together, then?” Cerys asks, when Ciri steps up to her side. They’re both shivering lightly in the icy breeze wafting in from the waves. “Or would you like the honor alone?”

“You’re the Queen of the Skellige Isles, Cerys, it ought to be your honor,” Ciri says, half-teasing, and Cerys’ eyes sparkle.

“And you’re the Witcher Cirilla of Vengerberg, Lioness of Cintra and Empress of Nilfgaard, The Swallow Bearing the Sun in Her Wings,” Cerys retorts, “and you outrank me by a league. So?”

Ciri rolls her eyes as theatrically as possible at the full title, though she’s privately pleased that Cerys used both of Vengerberg and the informal order of it. “Together, then.”

She offers her hand as she takes a step closer to the cliff’s edge, toes already freezing in the sparse, damp grass.

Cerys steps up alongside her and threads their fingers together. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty,” she says, with a little half-curtsy, still a fake one since she’s not wearing a damn dress, and a smirk that belies the formal tone.

Ciri immediately drops Cerys’ hand just to shove her off the cliff and jump right after her.

– – – – –

By the time they’ve swum back to shore, anyone else who wanted to jump has already done it, and it turns into a race back to the castle before fingers and toes go from numb to dead. All the same, they’re laughing as they finally stumble into the marginally-warmer stone halls, the mood easy and light, chatter and laughter echoing off of the high ceilings.

It’s only when they’ve made their way to Cerys’ rooms, already prepped and ready with a large, steaming bath, that Ciri realizes she has absolutely no idea where she’s meant to be staying. Or if she’s even welcome.

Her rank and power do a lot to smooth the way wherever she’d like to go – and her sword and medallion often do what the crown cannot – but she prefers not to use any of them like a cudgel.

Cerys, though, seems to have the same realization a beat after her.

“I can send someone to make up a room,” she says, “but in the meantime, we could share a bath.” There’s a hint of lechery in the quirk of her lips. “Only if you don’t think that would be too…improper, of course.”

Ciri nearly asks where in the world Cerys picked up the idea that she’s ever given a single fuck about proper, but decides that playing coy is much more fun. “It might be,” she says, slowly. “But….”

She rubs her arms and shivers. It’s a little exaggerated, but certainly not entirely an act – she is cold, clothes still wet and skin a little slimy where the seawater lingers.

“It’s cold, and it’ll take too long to make up another bath for you,” Cerys says, and this time her tone is at least half-serious. “You’ll catch your death, Your Imperial Highness – and I cannot, nor do I want to, imagine the horrors your court would bring down upon me if I allowed it to happen. I’m just a lowly Islander queen, after all.”

The snark is back, with the last part, and Ciri can’t help how she snorts.

“Alright, alright.” She prods Cerys into the room and follows along, closing the door behind them. She catches sight of a door across the room shutting with utmost gentleness, likely a servant who had realized that they were not needed and decided to at least be discreet about their eavesdropping. “I’m sure my honor will survive the blow.”

“Mine certainly won’t, but it’s not as if I had much to begin with,” Cerys retorts, and Ciri chokes on another laugh.

“You know what they say about Skelligers,” she says, trailing off with a wink, and Cerys just raises an eyebrow.

“What, that we’re one good blow away from a fight?”

Ciri giggles. “No, that you’re one good blow to anyone’s honor.”

It clearly takes a second to click, Cerys squinting at her for slightly longer than a typical beat, but Ciri sees the moment it finally dawns, the queen’s eyes going wide before she starts cackling.

“That was awful, Cirilla,” she scolds, but she’s grinning wide and there’s no heat to her voice, just poorly-concealed laughter.

Before Ciri can come up with another witty reply – either about her wonderful wordplay, or the use of her full first name – Cerys is huffing and shaking her head, starting to tug at her own layers.

She tosses them directly onto the floor with no care as she wriggles free of them, and Ciri starts to do the same, struggling out of the top dress and progressively wetter layers beneath, until she’s reached the last of them, her underthings still soaked and getting slimier by the second.

She hesitates. As unpleasant as the soggy cotton is, and as thrilled as she usually is to be free of clothes, it’s…. Well. If this were just a bath with a friend, or even just fellow nobility, it wouldn’t be anything to drop her clothes. She’s done it before in springs and bathhouses.

But this isn’t just another sovereign, or even just a friend. This is…well, it’s Cerys, someone that Ciri can admit (at least in her own head, privately, to herself) she’s been carrying a torch about for…as long as they’ve known one another, probably.

(Definitely.)

Cerys is speaking again, though, as she’s peeling out of the layer just above her underthings, struggling with the fabric as its soaked so much water up from the layer below, and Ciri is distracted from her not-quite spiral about her infatuation.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” Cerys says, and Ciri’s stomach drops to the floor in the split second it takes for her to notice the wry quirk to Cerys’ mouth. Before she can relocate her own words, Cerys continues, though this time it’s quieter, more of a mutter. “...then again, s’pose I have no room to speak on that.”

Ciri doesn’t think she was meant to hear that last bit. She’s aware that she should probably pretend she didn’t.

But she’s burningly curious as to what, exactly, that means, so she quirks a brow when Cerys’ eyes next catch hers. “Oh?”

Harmless, directionless flirting is one thing – something they’ve been doing for the same amount of time Ciri’s carried the torch – but that? That sounded like an admission.

Cerys makes a small, short sound, something of a cross between a squeak and a snort, coloring a little. “If I may be crass, Your Imperial Majesty,” she winks, and Ciri feels herself flushing, because this time the title sounds more genuine, even if it’s in a crude way. “You have a truly spectacular pair of tits.”

Ciri snickers, and before she even thinks it all the way through, she’s quipping, “Thank you, Yennefer helped me pick them out when I got tired of being shaped wrong.”

What she’s said sinks in just a second too late, and she sucks in a breath, biting her cheek against trying to over explain. It’s possible Cerys will misunderstand that – think it has to do with self-esteem, and not anything to do with the confused whispers about wasn’t the heir to Cintra a boy? – but if she opens her mouth again, she could give the truth away.

But Cerys’ mouth drops open to mirror how tightly Ciri’s gritting her teeth, and she stutters, “You were – ” before she’s squeaking and putting a hand over her mouth.

They stand frozen, just staring at one another, for a long moment.

Ciri tries to find her voice, tries to come up with something to say – to brush it off, or to admit the truth, or maybe a secret third option she hasn’t come up with yet. She doesn’t know, but the silence is stretching out longer and longer, and she feels like there are ants crawling along the back of her neck.

Despite all her frantic thoughts, Cerys beats her to breaking it. “Something we almost have in common, then,” she says, and finishes peeling out of her underclothes, revealing her own chest – perfectly flat, nothing but solid muscle and pink-white scars cupping the shape of her pectorals. “Mousesack helped me pick mine when I got tired of the same.”

And the scars are – obvious, really, Cerys is hardly the first person Ciri has met with them, but it takes until she speaks for it to really click, and then – and then she’s laughing, caught somewhere between fierce relief and flustered sheepishness.

“Good to know we have that in common?” she asks, voice shifting down a little, like it hasn’t since she was thirteen and Yennefer started teaching her how to pitch it higher, and she hopes that Cerys understands her meaning – that she means a bit more than just picking out surgi-magical modifications to their chests.

She expects that Cerys will laugh, probably – that she’ll poke fun at Ciri, almost certainly. What she doesn’t expect, in any way, is for Cerys to step into her space, reaching out and cupping one roughened palm around the nape of her neck to yank her even closer.

“I’m pretty sure it’s more than that,” she murmurs, and then her mouth is ghosting over Ciri’s, the distant suggestion of a kiss.

Like hell is she going to turn that down.

They’re still shivering finely from the cold and wet, Ciri’s underthings uncomfortably slimy between them – really, it’s atrocious how seawater just never actually seems to dry, just turns to slime and then…crusts – but none of that really matters, not in the face of the kiss.

The kiss, which is going quickly from chaste and almost innocent to something decidedly more hungry, Cerys’ fingers finding their way into Ciri’s hair, her other hand creeping around her waist and then up to cup her ribs. Ciri, for her part, gets her hands on Cerys’ waist first, and then shifts them to the lower curve of her spine and the place between her shoulderblades as they press closer.

When they finally break apart they’re both panting, and the way Cerys’ fingers are curling around the curve of Ciri’s skull, a rough, callused thumb rasping back and forth just under her ear, has Ciri shivering for reasons entirely unrelated to the damp.

She doesn’t know if Cerys misreads the trembling, or if maybe she understands and simply makes an unrelated decision, but without a word she’s taking a step back, pulling Ciri gently toward the bath. The way she tugs at Ciri’s remaining clothes, though, is significantly less gentle.

It’s a little hard to get naked, considering that they both refuse to step away from another with equal fervor, but between four hands they manage. They also succeed – somehow – in clambering their way into the bath without injury.

Through another kiss, they end up settled on a very convenient seat along the edge of the ridiculously large tub, Ciri on the ledge and Cerys perched in her lap. The position leaves their bottom halves in quite close contact for the first time, and before Ciri can even start to – explain? apologize? she’s not entirely sure – Cerys is humming, a distinctly pleased little sound, and settling her weight more firmly in Ciri’s lap.

“Hello there,” she says, and rolls her hips, pinning Ciri’s half-hard cock properly between them. “I’d ask about pockets, but all things considered, I think I can just assume you’re happy to see me.”

Ciri wants to say something in response to that – even if it’s just to cry hypocrisy about Cerys’ early rebuke of Ciri’s earlier pun – but all that comes out is a thin, reedy little moan.

It makes Cerys laugh, but it’s a breathy sound, cut off when she presses their mouths together again, so Ciri isn’t too terribly offended.

She’s usually more put together, she swears she is, but, well. This torch has been burning for a little less than most of her life, for fucks’ sake.

While they kiss, Cerys starts to move, rocking her hips to grind them together, and both of them end up making broken, breathless little noises into each others’ mouths. The water intensifies the friction, washing away the slick either of them could produce well before it’s of any use, but it also makes the movements easier, smoothing out the jerkiness where both of them are startling to tremble.

Gods above, Ciri should not be this close because of a handful of kisses and a pretty queen in her lap. She’s not sure if it’s because she’s been pining for a ridiculous length of time, or that she’s not had much time for anyone except her own hand lately, or maybe that Cerys really is just that incredible. Whatever it is, she absolutely refuses to embarrass herself so thoroughly, at least this first time.

It takes entirely too much willpower, but she gets her hands on Cerys’ hips, stopping the rocking movement and splashing water over the edges of the tub with the sudden interruption to the water’s motion. Cerys makes a little sound, whiny and petulant, and Ciri is halfway through a choked sort of coo at how cute that was when Cerys’ eyes snap open.

“Sorry, was that – ”

Ciri feels a little bad when pressing her fingers over Cerys’ lips apparently gets some bathwater in her mouth, but she doesn’t need an apology and doesn’t want to entertain it. “I’m fine,” she assures. “I just – have a better idea.”

At that, the scrunched combination of shock and concern on Cerys’ face smooths out, replaced instead by obvious curiosity. Her eyes are bright and her lips are a little swollen from their kisses, and Ciri has to resist the urge to lean forward and nip at them, at least for now. Instead, she starts prodding Cerys off of her lap, and giggles when Cerys’ expression once again shifts in a heartbeat, turning to a small pout even as she follows the silent direction and finds her own feet.

Ciri can’t resist that, not entirely, so she leans forward to kiss the corner of the pout as she also stands from the bench. Cerys turns her head and turns it into a real kiss, because of course she does, and Ciri is weak, so she allows it for a long moment.

“C’mon,” she finally says, when they have to pull apart for air, and before Cerys can complain – or catch her in another kiss – she slips behind her and gently nudges her forward again.

She tries to turn at first, clearly trying to sit, but Ciri gets her arms around her waist and keeps her facing forward. She nuzzles against Cerys’ ear and whispers, “Like this,” before guiding her forward again, until her knees are pressed to the bench.

From there, she drags her hands back down to Cerys’ hips, then her thighs, coaxing her to keep going forward, until she’s kneeling on the ledge. That’s when she seems to get the idea, suddenly tugging out of Ciri’s grip to scoot forward and bend at the waist, bracing her palms against the thick edge of the tub.

“Yeah, perfect,” Ciri murmurs, and leans forward to press a kiss between Cerys’ shoulderblades, fingers finding the stretched smoothness of the scars on her chest. She kisses down Cerys’ spine, hands following the same path but down her front, and when she’s reached where her back starts to curve into ass, Ciri shifts her weight and drops into a low crouch.

She uses her hands, curled around the very tops of Cerys’ thighs, to shift her hips up a little more, just enough to lift her cunt properly above the water.

Cerys shivers and whines, soft and breathless, and Ciri presses a kiss to where the waterline is lapping at the back of her thigh.

“This okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cerys is almost panting. When Ciri looks up – she has to lean a little to the side, to see more than the curve of Cerys’ ass and spine – Cerys is turned to look over her shoulder, eyes gone wide and dark.

She keeps their gazes locked as she slowly trails her fingers up and to the side, along the cut of Cerys’ hipbone, and then in and down, until she’s petting over the soft curls just above her slit. Cerys’ lashes flutter, mouth dropping open for the space of a panting breath before she’s sucking her bottom lip into her mouth to bite at it.

She whines when Ciri doesn’t keep going, squirming a little, hips rolling forward into Ciri’s hand. Ciri chuckles and turns her head to kiss along the curve of her ass and back down to the back of her thigh.

“Can I?” she asks, dragging her fingers further down, almost to Cerys’ clit but not quite there yet. Already, she can feel the heat – the difference between the water and Cerys’ body, the apex of her thighs, much warmer where she’s all swollen.

Cerys whines and bucks her hips, stammering out a, “P-please.”

Ciri lets the movement do what it intended to do, since she asked so nicely, fingers slipping over Cerys’ clit. The friction of it is a little rough with nothing but water between them yet, but Cerys just whines and bucks again, so Ciri keeps going, until Cerys has made a proper mess of herself and the touch is slick and wet.

“Good,” Ciri murmurs, mostly thoughtless, and traces an intentional, firm circle around Cerys’ clit at the same time she mouths along the edge of her outer labia, tongue flickering barely over where she’s wet and fluttering. Those touches earn her another whine, more desperate this time, as Cerys leans harder against her braced arms just so she can raise her hips and press back into the tease of Ciri’s mouth. “Yeah, fuck, so good.”

“C-Ciri, please,” Cerys breathes.

Ciri curses and leans further forward, flattening her tongue over the slick mess built between Cerys’ thighs. The sound Cerys makes in response could be reasonably called a shout, if it weren’t so pitchy and breathless, and Ciri grins but doesn’t bother pulling back. When she teases her tongue at Cerys’ entrance, she gets another almost-shout, and when she presses in, the sound turns into a low, warbling little mewl.

Her cock throbs where it’s bobbing in the water, and she imagines the two of them are probably going to sully it enough that a brand new bath is needed, but that’s the only real thought she spares for it.

“Fuck, fuck, please,” Cerys finally gasps, after Ciri has spent a few minutes pressing her tongue just inside the clutch of her entrance and then pulling back out to trace her folds before doing it again.

She hasn’t even really been meaning to tease – she’s just…taken with the taste of Cerys, with feeling her twitch and flutter. Entirely too taken to be paying much attention to the passage of seconds – or to keep moving her fingers, she realizes. The pleas, though, bring her right back, and she hums into Cerys’ heat before she’s pressing closer, rubbing at Cerys’ clit again as she presses her tongue as deep as she can get it.

Cerys squeals, hips jerking, and Ciri reconsiders her original intention to pull back and say something filthy. Instead, she stays right where she is, shifting in her crouch just to relieve some pressure on her ankles, and tongue-fucks Cerys until the she’s starting to shake and babble.

“Fuck, fuck, you – ah, ah – oh gods, Ciri – ”

Whenever Cerys makes a new noise or starts shaking harder, Ciri follows that as if it were explicit directions, until Cerys is no longer babbling, she’s just making scattered noise, entirely breathless. She’s so hard she could use her cock as a hammer, but all she can really focus on is how sweet Cerys’ cunt is, all of the pretty noises and trembling that she’s working out of her with just her hand and tongue. It’s – heady, and hotter than it has any right to be, and so much more than she’d ever even dared dream about, at least consciously.

Cerys can make jokes-that-aren’t about how far Ciri outranks her all she wants, but in Ciri’s opinion, Cerys is so far out of her league that it balances them right back out. She’s fairly certain Cerys would take offense to that, though, and not at all for her own sake, so Ciri fully plans to keep that as a thought to herself.

She’s almost worried, for a split second, when Cerys’ suddenly goes tripwire-taut, but then her mouth is suddenly flooded with slick and she understands. She groans, but doesn’t let up on her ministrations, working Cerys through the peak of the pleasure and out to quivering on the other side.

“Ciri, Ciri, fuck, oh my gods – ”

She doesn’t stop until Cerys fumbles a hand back and catches at her hair. The feeble tapping at her head is, by itself, ineffectual in making her stop, but she doesn’t want this to tip into the bad kind of overstimulation, so she follows the silent direction and pulls back.

She intends to ask something cheeky about if that was good, but before she can manage more than just the breath in, Cerys is leaning up and turning, the hand still sort of limp against Ciri’s head finding its way into her hair just to tug slightly.

“Please get up here and fuck me,” Cerys pants, tugging at her hair again, and Ciri certainly isn’t going to say no.

It’s not the first time she’s experienced the sensation of her dick overtaking her brain, but she thinks it might be the most intense instance of it.

“Yeah, okay,” she murmurs, and lets go of Cerys just long enough to brace on the side of the tub and the ledge so she can lever herself back to standing. She ignores the tingling in her legs – it’s not bad enough she’ll topple, so it doesn’t matter – and instead bends to press along Cerys’ back, one arm slipping around her waist while the other hand goes to her throat. She nudges at Cerys’ jaw with her fingers until she turns properly and Ciri can kiss her again.

She has to take her hand away to reach down and guide her cock, but Cerys barely seems to notice, at least until Ciri is nudging up against her entrance.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” she gasps, head dropping back down as her knuckles go white around the edge of the tub. “Please.”

“I’ve got you,” Ciri murmurs, lips trailing along the curve of Cerys’ throat in absence of her mouth.

It only takes some more minute shifting, using her other hand to steady Cerys’ hips as she guides herself with the one around her cock, and she’s slipping in. They both make high, shocky little sounds, and Ciri bites at Cerys’ shoulder as her hips jerk.

She wants to go slow, to check in, but Cerys is letting go of the edge of the tub to throw her arm back, fingernails digging into Ciri’s hip when her hand finally finds it, and she doesn’t have much choice with the way she’s yanked, unless she wants to send the both of them tumbling over the edge of the tub and onto the floor.

“Fuck me,” Cerys repeats, and Ciri makes a wordless sound of agreement before she’s doing just that.

#Anonymous #celus writes #dead dove #dead dove do not eat #celus trans characters cw

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astrid-sama · 2 years

Text

The dances aren't that bad after all (Calanthe x fem reader)

(Il post c'è anche in Italiano sul mio profilo)

(English is not my first language, sorry for the mistaken)

<<So stay next to me, evil look and pretend to be mute nobody has to know who you are >> Gerald and I are at the royal palace of Cintra to protect Jaskier from the horned royals. He forced us to dress like sad silk merchants by saying it was best to keep a "low profile".

<< Gerald and T / N the intrepid witchers >> suddenly all the guests of the banquet turn to look at us.

<<Fuck>> apparently Jaskier's plan didn't go well.

<<How are you not seen since the times of the plague >>

<< Good times lot of mousesack >>

<> sack of mouse then turned to me << Y / N because you and Gerald are dressed like sad traders of silk? >> instead of answering I turn to look at Jaskier and from the expression on his face I guess he understood why we are here.

<< Come with me I want to show you something >> so the three of us walk among the tables full of suitors.

<>

<<So it's an old and grumpy kingdom >> says Gerald making a rat-bag smile.

<< How long will all this last the nobility is better to take it in small doses >>

<< I'm sorry for you T / N but do not hope to leave before dawn the suitors will contend for Pavetta's hand all night, a royal wedding is highly coveted, who would not want to become the king of the most powerful kingdom in the region> > says sack of mouse while taking a sip of beer.

<<So which of these privileged balls did you cheat? >> I asked while drinking a beer trying to change the subject.

<<Come with me I'll show you something >> he says walking between the tables until he gets near a table where a man looking like a pig eats as if he hasn't seen food for days.

<< I would never have believed it but that drunkard down there - he said pointing to the man in front of us - will marry Pavetta the lioness has already planned everything with the uncle of the boy Eist of Skellige, no one would dare to hinder such a powerful alliance> > he said as he watched a nobleman turn a dagger in his hands.

<< Skilled with blades and skilled with women >>

<<All appearance, Queen Calanthe has refused his proposal three times, and useless to continue to try the lioness is not made to stay in the shadow of a husband >> while a lot of mouse was talking I realized how a man ( surely the husband of one of the women Jaskier slept with) was cornering Jaskier, I pointed this out to Gerald and together we headed to rescue Jaskier.

<<Forgive me sir it always happens that Jaskier is mistaken for a cowardly rascal but I assure you that it is not so, Y / N can you explain? >> Gerald says turning to me, obviously he wants me to invent something.

<<You are right, sir it is known that as a child he was hit in the balls by a bull >>

Jaskier nods and the man apologizes before leaving.

<< But thank you very much first attract all the attention and then ruin my reputation at court >> says Jaskier offended.

<< We saved you, now try not to get stabbed before dawn >>

Suddenly the trumpets start to sound and a man announces the return of Queen Calanthe, when I turn to look I find myself in front of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, she is in armor with untidy hair covered in blood from head to toe , a real lioness is wild and beautiful.

<<Beer>> shouts the queen, then apologizes for the delay saying that she had to remind the rebels who is in charge, thus making all the men applaud.

I'm still watching her as she walks to the table where her daughter is, Gerald notices it and gives me a knowing smile, obviously he knows about my preference for women.

<<You did not kill a gnat let alone a manticore >>

<> two nobles were arguing, each of them claimed to have killed a manticore, which obviously neither of them had done.

The discussion had become so intense that even the queen joined in << There are famous guests tonight maybe they will be able to tell us which of the two lords is telling the truth >> all turned towards us waiting for one of the two to speak.

. <<Neither>> I said and Gerald nodded in agreement.

<< Are you calling us liars? It is obvious that the butchers of Blaviken are lying >> said one of the lords.

<<Maybe they could have met some sub species of manticore >> Gerald adds after seeing the important look that Jaskier gave him. The queen laughed.

<< Maybe our guests can tell us how they slaughtered the elves at the edge of the world >>

<<In reality, Her Highness, we have not killed any elves, on the contrary we were almost to be killed >> Gerald said as the crowd began to laugh at us << At least when their sword has reached our throat we are not there below, I hope it would have been like that for you too, but I doubt it >> I added.

<<Any man and woman willing to admit their failures will make tonight's conversations more interesting, come witcher sit next to me I'm going to change >> said the queen.

<<These damn clothes I'd rather wear my armor >>

Calanthe said as she touched her corset-tight stomach.

<< Me too, and Gerald agrees too >> I replied.

<< In fact, what are two witchers doing at my daughter's engagement party dressed as >>

<< like sad silk merchants >> Gerald said finishing the sentence started by the queen.

<<We protect the bard from the vengeful real horned >> I replied.

<<A heap of idiots, I am glad of your presence will be useful to me, tonight surely some blood will be shed >>

<> Gerald said taking a sip of beer.

<<You have been hired by the bard >>

<<We are simply doing a favor to a friend Highness >> I replied while she rolled her eyes.

<< I'm just saying that in case all hell breaks loose, I count on you to eliminate some subjects that could be in the way >>

<< Neither I nor Gerald will help you >>

<< As a queen I could force you to do it >>

<<If we were your subjects but we are not >> the queen turns to look at me obviously struck by what I said.

<>

<<I'm sorry height but the torture does not have much effect on those like us >> the queen smiled, apparently she liked me.

During the party Calanthe and I kept talking and I could have sworn I saw the lust in her eyes as the conversations went on.

Suddenly she got up and started walking towards the exit of the hall, she touched my shoulder lightly as if inviting me to follow her, I waited a little to avoid arousing suspicion and then followed her.

I had only taken a few steps when I was pushed against the corridor wall with Calanthe's lips above mine, suddenly her hands were on my body, I gasped in surprise and she took the opportunity to slide her tongue into my mouth. When we separated we were both breathing hard, Calanthe was looking at me with a hungry look practically undressing me with her eyes.

<<We should move this in more private >> she said as he grabbed my hand and dragged me into her bedroom.

Now I am in Calanthe's bed my head on her chest, our bodies full of bites, hickeys and scratches.

There is no doubt it was definitely the best night of my life.

<<We should go back to the party before anyone suspects something >> Calanthe says as he runs his fingers through my hair, I nod and get up to put my clothes back on.

I was about to leave when Calanthe grabs me <<I'll wait in my rooms as soon as the party is over >> I nodded with a smile on mine lips, I can't wait for the party to end.

#calanthe of cintra #queen calanthe #queen calanthe x reader #calanthe x fem reader #calanthe x reader

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o-kaythislooksbad · 6 months

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@ailesswhumptober day 25: nightmares / flashback / "why didn't you save me?"

[fucked around with the witcher (netflix) story and timeline for this draft of a fic that's probably not going anywhere]

the flaming remains of cintra illuminate the black knight on his horse. the horse whinnies, bucks the man off its back, and morphs into the boarish face of nivellen. "stay with me, ciri. please." his snout and tusks swirl around his face until his nose and ears become humanoid, and his fur is replaced by a head full of quills. "you belong with me." a figure with long, pale yellow hair appears by his side; her slim fingers intertwine with the thick armor on his hands. "you belong with us." cintra keeps burning, and its peoples' screams of anguish become cheers of joy as a new banner is raised over the castle.

the air is cold, but it has nothing to do with the shivering that causes ciri to wake.

"why didn't you save me?" she whispers.

geralt frowns from across the tiny campfire. "you made it to roach before i dealt with the bruxa."

ciri shakes her head. "you didn't need to protect me from vereena. why didn't you save me before?"

"from cintra?" geralt asks, and receives a small nod in reply. "the king imprisoned me when i invoked the law of surprise. nilfgaard began their attack before i got out; there was nothing i could have done for you." he sighs and leans back against the fallen tree he claimed as a pillow.

geralt sounds apologetic enough, but it doesn't matter. they've been on the run for weeks, and he's barely said a sentence about anything, and even less about why they're running and where they're going. it's condescending and irritating, at the very least, to know her destiny and to know that geralt knows it, but he refused any direct question and keeps trying to distract her with roach when she's been polite.

"bullshit! you know, you've known, this entire time about my parents and the white flame. you claimed the law of surprise and you knew i would be the surprise. mousesack told me about the wedding, but you still left me in cintra with them."

"i never get involved." geralt doesn't move, but his voice inches towards the warning growls he uses before he shuts down.

"except for the times when you do," ciri counters, sitting up and glaring at him. "so why didn't you save me from everything, from the start?"

------ ------ -----

who are we to challenge destiny? life was saved, debt must be paid, or the whole order of the world falls apart. honor destiny's wish, or unleash its wrath upon us.

mousesack's words rumble around geralt's head as he watches ciri fight off her nightmares.

destiny helps people believe there's an order to this horseshit when there isn't. upon your insistence, i... i'll claim the tradition as you have, the law of surprise. give me that which you already have but do not know.

ciri's legs twitch as she mutters something about running, and what's left of geralt's heart breaks.

the bond that will come into being between you and this child will be extraordinary. if you dismiss it, you will surely unleash true calamity upon us all.

despite what he told mousesack, geralt had intended on honoring the cintran tradition. he had, until the girl's parents were declared lost at sea and coincidentally, rumors from the south spread like wildfire. whatever doubts geralt had about duny and pavetta, calanthe's strength and dedication to her people was legendary. cirilla would be better of with her and eist, with the armies of cintra and skellige protecting her.

love and blood. they both possess a mighty power.

ciri wakes and asks the one question he cannot answer. questions about yen and jask, about magic and signs, about prophecies and species and the continent and its history - those questions have answers that he's not always ready to give, or ones that he doesn't have the knowledge or permission to give. this one is different; there is no book to consult, or anyone else with a relevant opinion on the matter.

why didn't you save me?

#word stuff #ailesswhumptober2023 #the witcher #fanfic #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra

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isabellehemlock · 1 year

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WIP asks: questions 3 and 4

Hi Astra!

Thanks for sending me these :)

The one I'm currently writing is my TOG Cult AU fic - but I'll also answer for my other WIP as well, my Witcher precanon Eist and Calanthe fic, which I hope to resume next month ✨️

3. Whose your favorite character for this chapter/fic?

MoC - it's a toss up between Joe and Nicky. For this modern au they have some backstories that come from myself and other family members (shared with permission but keeping it vague to honor privacies). So writing them feels familiar in both healing ways and loving ways.

PBHBT - Eist! I project onto any character who's the fun loving sidekick but secretly a bad ass lol

4. Whose is your least favorite character for this chapter/fic?

MoC - Cain. He's basically like four rl abusers wrapped into one monstrous character. Most of his dialogue is word for word lifted from rl experiences.

PBHBT - oh gosh, hmmmm, I haven't gotten to that point yet, but it'll probably be Calanthe's first husband once he arrives 😅

Thanks again love ❤️

#wip ask game

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bookcalanthedaily · 2 years

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The knightly islander immediately filled her goblet and entertained her with conversation. Geralt didn't notice her answer with more than a word. Her eyes were permanently lowered, hidden behind her long lashes even during the noisy toasts raised to her around the table. [...] The queen joined a conversation between Eist, Vissegerd and Mousesack, with Pavetta's silent and dreamy participation.

sapkowski really said pavetta is autistic and everyone rolls with it

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icefrye19 · 2 months

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Dancing Of Flames (Emhyr x Oc, Cahir x Ciri)

Prologue II

In the main hall, the Royal family was dining with the Northern houses, loud chatter spread throughout the room. Valerievna was sitting down next to Cirilla; her grandparents sat on the opposite side of them.

People were dancing on the floor with one another, loud cheers and laughter ranged out. Valerievna lifted her goblet to her mouth, taking a sip of her wine, while watching the people interact.

" I saw the Wraiths of Morhogg over the channel this

morning." Her grandfather said.

Valerievna and Cirilla gazed at one another lost at what he was talking about.

" Yes, you mentioned." Calanthe said.

" Who?" Cirilla inquired.

" They're talking about the Wild Hunt." The young Dragon answered. " They're a group of elves that are like undead but not really alive, they're one of the most elite fighting groups in the Continent."

" I see someone has been doing this research." Mousesack said, proudly.

" Wait, so basically these soldiers they're like monsters." The young Lion Cub questioned.

" No one knows." She answered. " But legends says they are ghosts of death."

" Really." Cirilla whispered.

Valerievna nodded. " Yes, some says they have the body of a human, but the spirit of death washes over them."

" No good will come of it." Eist warned. " They're an omen of War."

" The North has been at war since Nifgaard took Ebbing." Calanthe said.

" If the legend is true, the Wild Hunt's years behind the curve." She added."

" The Nifgaardian force crossed the Amell Pass." Eist said.

The Queen grinned. " Headed to Sodden, if they're smart. And if not, 50 of your Skellige ships are on the way."

" We have more knights... We are prepared in case..." before Calanthe could finish her sentence, she was cut off by Valerievna and Cirilla.

" Prepared for what?" Cirilla asked.

Valerievna gazed at her grandmother deeply, seeing the stone look on her face. " Are we at war with Nifgaard?" She asked.

" Of course not, Princess." Moussemack lied.

" Nothing for you to be concerned about." Calanthe answered.

" Your dismissive tone says it is." Cirilla commented.

Valerievna scoffed. " If there's nothing to be concerned about then why did you send for Skellige ships?"

Calanthe signed. " As I've said there is nothing for you two to worry about, please do not start."

Eist shook his head. " We're talking of war, girls."

" With Nilfgaard?" The young Lion Cub exclaimed.

" Why?" The young Dragon inquired. " What do they want?"

Calanthe turned to her husband, glaring at him coldly. " Eist!

" Should we fall to Niffgaerd, your granddaughters will rule Cintea and Dragonyra one day."

" My Uncle is the ruler of Dragonrya, he turned the people against my father. I doubt they will accept me back." Valerievna mumbled.

" They haven't turned against you, sweet girl." Eist said. "They have however turned against your Uncle, riots have sprawled out on the streets."

Valerievna's eyes widened in surprise. " Where did you hear this from?"

" There are many whispers going around about your Uncle, he is slowly becoming unstable and mad."Mousesack said.

" That is not a surprise, that man has always been unstable." The Queen mumbled.

" Most of the Lords and Mages have started to turn against him; they wish for their rightful Empress back." The mage added.

" This is great, Valerievna actually has a chance at gaining her kingdom back." Cirilla said, placing a hand on her cousin's back.

However, Valerievna still wasn't convinced she had what it took to be Empress. She wasn't good at public speaking, let alone politics. It had been years since she had been home, the people had probably long forgotten about her.

She wasn't meant to rule, her stillborn little brother should've been King. The Draconian Lords would never except for a woman on the Draconian Throne, her Aunt was an example of that when her grandfather had declined her succession claim despite being the eldest of his children.

Eist nodded. " Yes, all she needs is the armies to back her up."

" Luckily, your aunt Visenya has one." He added.

" My Aunt Visenya lives." Valerievna said, tears beginning to well in her eyes. " And, she's safe."

" Yes, Princess, she is safe in Aretuza." The dune answered.

" Yes, hiding out like a coward." Calanthe scoffed.

Valerievna turned to her grandmother, not liking how she was referring to her aunt like that . " She's not a coward."

The Lioness chuckled. " She is my sweet girl." She has a dragon, a powerful army and a navy, she could travel to Cintra and help you take back Dragonyra, but she would rather help those mages instead of her own niece."

" So, why does Nifaagard want Cintra anyway?" She asked, changing the subject.

" I don't know." Eist lied. " Ask your grandmother."

" Eist, that is enough small talk." Calanthe hissed.

" They need to understand the way of things in case we do fall."

" We will not fall because we are not attacked." The Lioness said. " For god sakes, they're children."

" You won your first battle when you were our age." Cirilla pointed out.

" I've heard the ballads." She added.

" Pretty ballads hide bastard truths." The King mumbled.

" It's a catchy song." The young Lion Cub commented.

" Three thousand of my name died." Calanthe said, turning to her granddaughters. " If we must do this now, here are your girl's first lesson."

" As in life, it is impossible to always be fully prepared for battle. Keep your sword close and keep moving." She added.

The song came to an end, a Northern Lord and his two sons came towards them, bowing in respect.

" Your Majesties." The Northern Lord spoke up. " Thank you for allowing our company to do this splendid affair."

The young boys greeted the King and Queen with a bow. " Your Majesties." They said, before turning their gaze over to the Princess's

" Would you honor us with his dance?" They asked.

Valerievna and Cirilla gazed at one another, before turning back to the boys. " Um, Martin...... Asmund we really." They were about to say, until their grandmother cut them off.

" They loved to ." Calanthe said, with a smile.

She turned to her granddaughter glancing at them with a pointed look not to be rude.

Knowing their grandmother was serious, Valerievna and Cirilla got up from their seats making their way on the floor with the boys, and started to dance with them.

Once the dance started, Asmund took the lead holding his hand at her waist gently leading her through it. The two started to dance slowly with one another, Asmund spun her around catching her in his arms.

" You look beautiful tonight, Princess." Asmund complimented.

" Thank you, you look very handsome yourself." Valerievna responded.

" You're nearly a woman of age." He said.

She nodded. " Yes, as I have been told."

" Many Lords desire to have your hand in marriage Asmund said, twirling her around.

Valerievna felt her heart stop for a moment, but keep her smile plastered on her face. " Like who, my Lord."

" Like me." He said. " I mean if you and I were to be bonded together we would build the most powerful alliance between our two houses."

" And your dragons would be most welcomed." He added. " I know you are kind of desperate to get your kingdom back, I can help you."

Valerievna almost wanted to scoff at the boy's words, how dare he presume to think she was a beggar Princess. " Desperate, you think I am so begged on the street." She hissed.

" No ... of course not I... I wasn't- didn't mean any harm Princess." The boy rambled out.

" Let's get something straight Lord Asumund, I am not some brooding mare for any man to use about." She whispered. " I am Valerievna Adalia Visenya Malfyre of House Malfyre, Blood of the Dragon and I will take back what is mine with Fire and Strength, I will take it." She hissed. " And, I need neither you nor any man to help me take my kingdom."

She pulled away from him. " Thank you for this dance, Lord Asmund, I think it's time I retire for the night."

With that, Valerievna walked out to the hall leaving Lord Asmuel stunned. She made her way outside and stepped in the moonlit corridors. Her mind began to race back to her kingdom, her home she longed to reclaim. Would they accept her back, what if they hated her.

Was it worth it thousands dying all due to her wants? It was selfish, a good ruler always put their people first, she couldn't risk anyone else dying because of her.

Maybe not now, but one day she will return to Dragonyra and when she does she will reign hell fire on her Uncle.The path she seeked was uncleared for Destiny would intervened in her plans, and the young Dragon would do anything to escape it; but only find no matter how far she ran it would catch up to her eventually.

━━━━━━━༺ - ༻━━━━━━━

#the witcher #oringinal character #witcher oc #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #cahir x ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #calanthe of cintra #mouesack #cintra #nifaggard #thewhiteflame #emhyr var emreis #the witcher emhyr var emreis

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corvo-bianco-lilacs · 4 years

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If u wanna recover from the feels I gave you, plz imagine Calanthe reuniting with Eist and Pavetta in the afterlife, and she is happy, content. Then she learns what really happened to Pavetta and who Duny REALLY was, and proceeds to try to either scare Duny to death by appearing a ghost or trying to posses someone to kill him. Eist is heart-eyes because isn't his wife and Queen of his heart beautiful when she's determind to kill someone?

Omg, absolutely YES!!

She doesn't even have to scare him or possess the body of someone else to kill him!

She waits. She waits and she plots.

And then, when he does die and come to the afterlife, she enacts her revenge.

She tortures and flails, stabs and wrenches, and still she doesn't think that's punishment enough. She tortures him throughout their time in the afterlife.

Eist has the biggest heart-eyes for her as she dismembers Emhyr for the death of Pavetta, the fall of Cintra, and the emotional torment that he put her Ciri through.

She makes him pay for what he's done to her babies.

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askcintra · 8 months

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To all of you: is it possible that one day Cintra/Skellige and Nilfgaard can make peace?

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saessenach · 4 years

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Hi! Once you get this you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly, then send this to ten of your favourite followers (non-negotiable) SPREAD POSITIVITY 💌😘

Hi there!! Thank you for the kind ask ♡

Hmmm lemme think

1. I like the fact that I'm organised, and keep to an orderly routine, as much as I can

2. I genuinely started liking my hair the past couple of months! It's been dyed all sorts of colours for some years now, but I grew it out and it's back to natural and I like it loads

3. Errr the fact that I'm driven? If I put my mind to something, I will not give up

4. I like to think I'm funny. Or at least mildly amusing (it would be quite mortifying to get told I'm boring rn haha oops). Failing that, I make a killer hot chocolate, so at least I have something to offer

5. My attempt at balance! Whether it's the stuff I create, or my work, or my relationships with people, or just lifestyle in general, I'm trying to be as balanced as I possibly can, and it's giving me a lot of peace

Thank you again, and I hope you have a lovely day ♡

#answered #josephyne #also your calanthe/eist gifsets give me life i love them a lot ♡

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marvellouslymadmim · 2 years

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Rereading "Monstrous"... Loving it! Don't want to bother you but I've got some werewolf🐺 related questions: who is supposed to be the second werewolf, why didn't it attack after Eist is on the ground and where is it gone after they left the village? Have a nice day😊

First: sorry, it's been ages and I'm just now getting around to asks 🙃

Second: YESSSSSS I will gladly answer Monstrous questions!!!!!

Originally, there wasn't a second werewolf, and the original werewolf was going to be Belo Gethe, who owns the apothecary. But I ended up loving him too much and didn't want to hurt him. So the first werewolf is most likely someone who lived in the mountains, whose family was attacked in the winter prior.

I added a second werewolf because at that point, I actually wanted the attacks to keep happening and the villagers to accuse Cal and Eist of making the attacks themselves to get more money out of the villagers--originally, the night Eist transforms would have happened while they were still in Kovir, but then I realized the plot needed to move faster, and our intrepid little idiots in love needed to be farther along, both emotionally and geographically.

The second werewolf was Stelen, most likely. Maybe I'm cruel, but I like the irony of people punishing Cal for doing what they would have gladly paid her to do, had they known the truth about Stelen prior to his murder. After we leave them, the villagers will notice there are no more attacks. But they'll always assume it was because there was only one werewolf, not two--and certainly not Stelen. I think Belo Gethe will know, on some level. After all, he knew Stelen's history and was rather relieved to know he was gone. But I don't think Belo will say anything to anyone other than his wife. It's a small village and emotions run high.

I think the second werewolf didn't attack because it was aware of potentially being outnumbered and chose a wiser path. We see when Eist is in werewolf form that he is still capable of connecting things to his human life, even if only briefly, so it stands to reason that Stelen might have also recognized the hunters and been briefly confused as to why he knew them. It also explains why he was so adamant that Cal didn't kill the werewolf--because from what he saw, before he ran off, was Eist pushing Cal out of the way and taking on the werewolf himself. So from Stelen's POV, Eist did actually kill the werewolf and Cal is taking credit.

#thanks dearest!#asks #atomicmiracletheorist #monstrous #calanthe x eist

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avatarskywalker78 · 9 months

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Chapters: 2/?

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher) & Original Female Character(s), Jaskier ︱Dandelion & Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) & Original Female Character(s), Eist Tuirseach & Original Female Character(s), Cirilla Fiona Elen Rhiannon & Original Female Characters

Characters: OC: Áine an Tordarroch, Eskel (The Witcher), Jaskier ︱Dandelion, OC: Ksenia, Eist Tuirseach, Calanthe Fiona Rhiannon, Cirilla Fiona Elen Rhiannon, Pavetta (The Witcher), Crach an Craite, Original Characters, Original Animal Character(s), Duny (The Witcher)

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Male-Female Friendship, Female Friendship, Non-Chronological, Families of Choice, The Skellige Isles (The Witcher), Fate & Destiny, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Insecure Eskel (The Witcher), Immortal Jaskier ︱Dandelion, Human Jaskier ︱Dandelion, This never gets explained, Also he's unaware for a while, Season/Series 01, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, Developing Friendships, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Book-Canon Eskel, POV Multiple, Áine looking at Eskel like 'is anyone going to befriend him' and not waiting for an answer, Áine befriends three immortals and wonders how this happened, Grief/Mourning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Series: the warrior, the witcher, the firebird and the bard

Summary: When Áine an Tordarroch starts travelling to the Continent, she doesn't expect to make any friends at all - least of all a Witcher and two bards - and for their part none of them had ever had a friend quite like her. A tale of four very different people across the years, and the growing friendship that binds them together.

#OC: Áine an Tordarroch #Eskel #Jaskier #OC: Ksenia #The Witcher #The Witcher Netflix #the warrior the witcher the firebird and the bard #Thirsty Thursday

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witchersgoldenbard · 2 years

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“Jaskier?” Ciri‘s voice comes through the haze of his mind still foggy after seeing Geralt. She sounds insecure, so he shakes off all the residual heartache that always comes with the Witcher, and turns around to her with what he hopes is a gentle smile on his face.

“Yes, lovely?”

“Why are you always sad when Geralt is around?” she asks hesitantly, fiddling with a loose thread in her dress like she only ever does around Jaskier. He can’t suppress his smile at the motion, even though the question felt like he was getting doused in ice water. Caught. Exposed.

He breathes, then sits down on the floor, inviting her to follow him. The two of them have found out early in their relationship that the floor is a very valid choice for talking about serious things.

“Do you not like Geralt?” Ciri asks and sits down facing him, that loose thread still between her slim fingers.

Jaskier smiles sadly. “Oh, no, I do like him. A lot, my dear, don’t worry about that.”

She must really be caught up in her worry and confusion if her clever senses don’t catch the emotion Jaskier’s words and his sad little smile carry. This is not the fierce girl he met or the sassy teenager she can be sometimes. This is a child who has lost her family once and is now worried about losing another.

“Does he make you sad?”

Oh, and isn’t that a question! Jaskier opens his mouth a few times, words failing him. How does he explain such a thing to Ciri, especially in a way she would understand. A way that will help her recognise her own feelings in the present and the future. He is here to teach. And teach her he will.

“Do your parents make you sad, my darling? Your grandparents, Calanthe and Eist? Do they make you sad?”

Instinctively, Ciri nods, but Jaskier gives her time to understand the question and to understand herself. He lets her dig deep. Trusting that she would find her own answers to his questions.

A minute, then she shakes her head, a frown forming between her brows. “No,” she says, “They don’t make me sad. They make me happy. I’m just... sad they’re not around anymore,” she finishes, her voice hoarse.

Jaskier is filled with so many emotions at once, but what he does is grab her hand and hold it between them. “Yeah. And with Geralt, it’s... It’s a lot like that, too,” he murmurs.

Used by now to the moments where Jaskier would not explain further, Ciri only nods and squeezes his hand. Whether she understands, Jaskier doesn’t know. She probably does, bright as she is.

read part 2/2

#geraskier #jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #cirilla #nat writes #witcher season 2 #witcher spoilers #they’re yearning and ciri is a bit too smart for her own good #some rambles i found in my drafts that i’m posting to test if i show up in the tags now

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revoevokukil · 3 years

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I could read your analysis of Cirillac'h endlessly.❤️ Would you mind answering a few more questions? 1.) Who fell in love first? 2.) What annoys them the most about their partner? 3.) What do they like best about each other? 4.) Do they bring out the best in each other, or the worst? 5.) How Ciri feels about Avallac'h's 'obsession' over Lara? 6.) Does Avallac'h ever regret manipulating Ciri into sleeping with Auberon?

Alright, this took a while. Thank you for these excellent questions on Ciri and Avallac'h!

1. Who fell in love first?

I think we can leave conventional pathways to falling in love behind the door with these two, for I believe when brought together both of them take one facet of “falling in love” to its extreme: our tendency to see the other person for “who we want them to be” rather than as the person they are. I think the tendency is pretty common in all of us – our contexts for arriving at mutual understanding are usually simply a little less wrought with barbed wire. We usually want to and begin to see the other for who they are before our make-believes eat them and/or us up. The nature of this dialogue between partners is one which I think Avallac’h’s and Ciri’s relationship should explore.

With Ciri the matter is a little less complicated overall, so I would say she is the one to progress first and faster down this path in the more... ordinary sense. By character, Ciri is outgoing, curious, and hands-on/open personality – moreover, her personality is still in formation. Unfortunately, her softest parts have been repeatedly badly sliced and diced. Neither does she have steady, healthy examples of romantic love to look up to for guidance (if we discount Calanthe & Eist, maybe; although these memories are hidden behind a wall of trauma – the fall of Cintra).

Ciri’s attachment and abandonment issues are a double-edged sword: they make her wary and cynical of affection as such, but they also make her gravitate toward sources of security, stability, displayed affection and understanding. Avallac’h by his personality, knowledge, and power is well-placed to offer all of these things – at face value. Ciri admires, trusts, and looks up to the elf in the books, being jealous even of another elven woman floating around him. The speed of her attachment to silver linings presenting is concerning, but very understandable. It displays hope. For Ciri is also fairly young and the processing of her trauma is on-going, having not really even started by the end of the books. Many bad things can still wash off her if they are supplanted by relatively steady good things. Ciri also gives off the vibe that she took Margarita’s “act now; wrongly or rightly, may that be revealed later” very seriously, which can translate into giving herself into situations, relationships, and unknown possibilities with increased openness and sincerity – even if she doesn’t wish to admit to the existence of feelings or understand them completely. By interacting comes understanding, right?

With her psychological profile, she seems to me more prone to falling into doing things in the name of feeling like she belongs and is loved/cared for, regardless of risks. So, I think, Ciri is the first to sincerely, secretly start entertaining the thought of there being something more meaningful and lasting between the two of them. She wants to be loved – the world’s kind of crap, though. And complementarily damaged people often gravitate toward each other, which doesn’t make things easy.

On the flip side of the coin, I think Avallac’h fell first for the “possibility” Ciri personifies, which is like falling in love with a shadow in Plato’s cave. She might, in fact, be the light shining into said cave after centuries, but he will not instantly and consciously want to tear down former well-known structures and begin studying the nature of this light for what it is. He is worldly, cunning, and messed up in his own web of fates. A person in his position cannot allow a vulnerability like that (it’s almost an insult in itself). Avallac’h at present (let’s say, pre-game canon/post-book canon) is very much more inclined to distance himself from his own emotions and the “target subject” – observe it behind the glass, provide stimuli, get feedback. Make it safe and manageable for himself first, if possible. If she gets something good out of it in the process as well, all the better – I think he is quite a bit more aware of Ciri’s potential triggers and mental hooks than Ciri herself is (may it comfort him when he is so terrified of being at the mercy of his own). He knows how emotions work, he knows how they have worked on him, and how he can induce them in another. Even if Ciri would call it manipulation it really isn’t, because after so long you just understand how some mechanisms evolve and function. Why would you not act in the fullest capacity of knowledge you have? The problem is of course the “self” part: this “self” of Crevan’s hasn’t had the opportunity to develop anything healthy and lasting; it might not even know how to immediately do that because there are so many unresolved issues. Perhaps he even thinks it kinder to spare Ciri of having to deal with and understand that which has piled up in his shadowy heart.

But... the possibilities.

Crevan falls first for the possibility of re-experiencing destiny as manifested in love. (He thinks it’s cerebral, but the joke’s on him. He has been cheated out of his destiny, and the hurt is pretty unambiguously personal.) I do not think this is limited to recapturing the likeness of old love, or about trapping her in Plato’s cave alongside him either (though the danger exists). A journey instead: an opportunity to question, understand, get back at destiny/love and transform it, overcome self and it, and “get it right” this time. To see clearly the other person and yourself, for once. Things can go wrong, since the journey is in essence a gauntlet. I wouldn’t delude myself by thinking he is not considering and indulging in all the ways in which to have his cake and eat it too, given the opportunity. Perhaps though, there are better and worse ways for accomplishing a good, lasting thing? If you have had centuries to wonder about your destiny and how to bring it into fruition in a manner that does not self-destruct, then one hopes you are a tad bit more sensitive to mere shadows on the wall (impressions of “rightness”), and will react accordingly. With love especially, you will know when something rings false. You will feel what you feel; the question is how will you deal with it? In monologue? Or dialogue?

2. What annoys them the most about their partner?

In Ciri – thoughtlessness/insensitivity & nihilism/impulse for destruction.

In Avallac’h – hypocrisy/bending of truth & extreme pragmatism/god’s eye distance from “the earthly.”

3. What do they like best about each other?

In Ciri – idealism/hopefulness against all odds (though it causes him pain and frustration too) & straightforwardness about wants/mischief.

In Avallac’h – sensitivity/eye for detail and the unseen at first glance (perspective shifts) & reliability (structure, put together, everything under control, gives strength)/humour.

4. Do they bring out the best in each other, or the worst?

Depends on the circumstances. Generally, I think they bring out the better parts of themselves by the tug-of-war between how they oppose each other, since at heart Ciri and Avallac’h actually share a common pain and a common desire and even a common sense of entitlement/injustice. The difference comes in in scale. So the question starts to be – how come we oppose each other instead of leaning on one another? What can be revealed there and what can change in both of us as a result of our relationship? What is necessary for life instead of barren wilderness?

Ciri and Avallac’h complement each other in many ways – in personalities and conceptually. Therefore, they don’t capsize the boat with too much of one or the other thing, if you see what I mean, but rather keep the thing balanced.

For instance with Lara and Crevan I think there was too much of “one thing” – too much Alder Gold in one cup; too special, too “unproblematic”, too powerful, too “meant to be”, too perfect. It’s like the pitch perfect garden that somehow still manages to look inert, while a wilderness garden thrives thanks to imperfection; thanks to having to struggle to get there. I think a similar capsizing can also happen with Ciri and Eredin – hedonistic delight in the worst of our natures, for example. Those are interesting relationships too. That said, I am more than certain that especially in the first decade of Crevan’s and Ciri’s relationship, there are plenty of moments in which they can hurt each other very badly due to failing to bend at the correct moment (neither does that too well).

5. How Ciri feels about Avallac'h's 'obsession' over Lara?

In Lady of the Lake, Ciri’s reaction to tearing open an old wound of Avallach’s is to apologise to the wizard. Now as readers aware of the context we can see that given the circumstances of Ciri’s stay at Tir na Lia (and the fact Crevan is old enough, I think, to get a grip of himself) this is ridiculous, even if Ciri is being rude and thinking only about herself. Leaving this judgment business aside though, did Ciri perhaps realise in that moment anything at all about the heart of the wizard – or about the way elves feel in general? How strongly and for how long they can feel, hold grudges, hold onto memories with centuries to spare? Ciri’s experiences with Auberon after all (who mourns not one but two people connected to Ciri) culminate in her comforting him and saying goodbye to him amicably, and though LOTL gives us almost nothing in terms of Ciri’s internal feelings, the change of her mental state, her reflections, I still think she does come to empathise on some personal level.

I think Ciri understands how much Lara mattered to Avallac’h without knowing the details. I think she understands the elf loved somebody dearly and sincerely, and it isn’t right to make light of that, especially considering Ciri’s own shaky experiences with “love”. I think it intimidates her and makes her wonder sometimes, and I think she resents it: for progressively changing reasons.

Initially, it’s about the inability to live up to the expectations that are set on her at Tir na Lia – there is very little elf left in her, Ciri admits, as she becomes progressively more subsumed and more willing to please the elves. (This is a longer topic concerning Ciri’s mental state at Tir na Lia, which Sapkowski does not explore.) We’re not only speaking about looks here, but also mentality. Of “playing a role” and impersonating a character with duties. Ciri has not finished forming her own identity in the first place, so the shadow of Lara is not so much about a competition with a ghost of a former loved one as it is about broad sense of identity confusion. It’s impersonal, still.

Later, after escaping and reuniting, after the re-establishing of rapport under different circumstances the resentment would become more personal – anger and sadness intermittently over sometimes being but a mockery of a beautiful memory to somebody with whom you are forming a relationship. It would make her question Avallac’h’s help due to her own shortcomings when she is feeling small and make her shrug and accept his help as one of those life’s weird inevitabilities (what can she do about his feelings, in the end?) when she is feeling strong. It would often sober Ciri, I think, and at times she would resent herself for the part of her that is still trying to be a bit more like an elf she did not know and cannot be – if only not to be alone in feeling the feelings. “If only you could love me just a little bit – for me.” I think that encapsulates it in the end when there is still hope in her. I think though that she realises the catch very quickly, and it will anger her despite ultimately leaving her in a position where the only thing she can do is be herself, and that’s that.

Because Lara is one of Avallac’h’s demons and a part of his life that Ciri can do very little about. She does not have to, in the first place. When Avallac’h tells Ciri “let us not return to that ever again” and hugs her, I think he is aware of something Ciri herself will become progressively aware of once she starts developing feelings for the elf – it is not only Avallac’h’s own thinking that holding onto the past will poison, but also Ciri’s. Bringing it up constantly and keeping it in mind on both of their side will let cynicism run rampant, and everything burns. Past cannot be wiped away (and shouldn’t be in order not to repeat the mistakes), but people can proceed by giving even more value to the present thanks to the past instead of detracting from the present because of the past.

The games give a pretty nice indicator of Avallac’h perhaps having embarked on this journey himself: “For those who remain, death should never be more important than life.”

I think Ciri in her insecurity will just take a little time to believe it.

6. Does Avallac'h ever regret manipulating Ciri into sleeping with Auberon?

In some respect, I would say no – because Avallac’h has a “greater good” in mind, and a duty to his people in the achieving of which a single individual’s discomfort matters very little. In fact, I think Auberon was the kindest choice all in all – if there was ever a marginal amount of choice involved, which there seems to have been with the alternative being Avallac’h himself and his laboratory.

Which leads me to my next point.

In some respect, I would say yes – because the alternative was Avallac’h himself and his laboratory. A laboratory our pragmatist geneticist, for someone so “ends justifying the means” oriented, is very reluctant to use. As a matter of fact, from the cold, ruthless perspective of “matters of state” I would be pretty cross with Avallac’h for not opting for the more fool-proof method (as opposed to Auberon – which is self-explanatory (Lara was his daughter, Auberon is depressed/weary of life, 650+)). Further, it makes me think the alternative was Avallac’h and/or his laboratory rather than simply the laboratory – which makes sense, as even though Auberon is genetically more similar to whatever Ciri (a mutant) retains of the original Elder Blood, Avallac’h himself carries Elder Blood in the form of having been a match for Lara.

So, my theory.

Avallac’h was always supposed to make up for what initially seemed as the loss of the Gene. Perhaps it was a loss, perhaps Lara knew something more about the future when engaging with Cregennan. Upon meeting Ciri for the first time in person, having so far only dreamed of her and observed her from afar, Crevan is left speechless. He doesn’t even give Ciri his name, though he has prepared a tower and a place for her to stay at. He leaves abruptly without a word, for an entire week.

During this week it becomes conclusively clear to him that he cannot do it – neither father the child nor take Ciri to his laboratory. Ciri bears Lara’s eyes. Instead, he turns with news to the one person who is probably even more hurt than he is by the past, by the loss of a daughter and a wife (both of whose eyes Ciri bears) – Auberon. Auberon and him are both ambitious individuals. Auberon’s reluctance to engage with humans is perhaps even greater than Avallac’h’s. They have talked about the Swallow, of Lara’s descendant, before; of what will happen to her. The end matters, and in the end only that. But the ruler of the Alder Folk is a ruler for a reason; his wisdom and maturity surpass Crevan’s. He sees what he has long seen and understood about his once son-in-law – it will be a mess. It will be kinder and safer for their blood not to be put under knife, nor to come in touch with the metaphorical knives of unresolved and revived feelings Avallac’h at that point is virtually full of. Moreover, nothing new can begin, unless something old ends first.

On his part, Avallac’h is also conducting a test of fate – if everything is meant to be, everything will be. If Auberon succeeds, then that is that. But Ciri’s role in Auberon’s life is to close a circle, and nothing comes of it. Something ends, something begins. (Crevan has foreseen this possibility in the branching tree of fate too.) Avallac’h, however, has done something similar to what Geralt did at his very first meeting with Ciri – I have written about it here.

Later, I think Avallac’h will regret sending Ciri to Auberon when he is left thinking back on how Ciri herself – the child of Destiny – offered herself to him.

As ending note to you: have you ever listened to Girlyboi's Whole ? That song is Ciri/Avallac'h to me.

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#the witcher #wiedzmin #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #avallac'h #crevan espane aep caomhan macha #aen elle #cirillac'h #andrzej sapkowski #lady of the lake #witcher meta #witcher analysis #asks #enemies to lovers #auberon muircetach #the witcher 3

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