starter for @maasmuse

This was a trap. Clearly it was. But, at least Hena had the foresight of knowing it was a trap. They sat down on the dingy little bed in a dingy little inn in a dingy little town and opened the letter.

Witcher,

They scoffed, he never bothered to learn their name. Then again, he never offered his in return. 

It is time to return to your rightful place at my side, enough with this folly of acting a monster killer. Of course, I am aware that my normal means of summons will not be effective, so I have procured additional insurance to provoke a speedy return. 

This was the hook, the plot, the blackmail. Not that it would be hard, the mage knew practically everything about them.

He hasn’t been the most talkative, but I did manage to get some words out. 

Do be quick, you are, after all, my favorite.

He didn’t even sign it, not that it was needed. From the parchment dropped a device, small and compact. They picked it up, it was warm and tingly, certainly magical. A xenovox.

There was a crackling before a piercing scream came from the device, causing the witcher to cover it with a hand. That was Aiden. Fuck, that was Aiden.

“ No, I’m not- don’t come looking for me! I’ll survive, don’t worry about me. ” His voice was thin, pained.

The mage only laughed, cutting off Aiden’s plea with a sharp noise followed by another scream from the captured witcher.

“ She will come. Do hurry, witcher, if you want him to live. ”

“ FUCK! ” They swore as the xeonvox shut off. Taking a deep breath, they recentered themself. The second most important rule of walking into a trap is doing the exact opposite of what the trap setter expects. The mage clearly expects them to come running with no plan. And alone. So they would do neither. 

Lambert was heading to Brugge, right? He would help. Packing everything back up they headed down to the stables, apologizing to Whiskers for the short rest as they saddled him and set on a brisk pace to Brugge. “ Just hold on, Aiden. If you die I’ll be really angry. ”

@maasmuse as promised - The morning sun streamed through the ornate windows of the royal chamber, casting a warm glow on the tangled mess of dark-cropped curls sprawled across the luxurious bed. King Julian of Lettenhove, lay tangled in the sheets, his head throbbing in rhythm with the banging of pots or whatever it was he could hear across the palace.

Groaning, he forced one eye open, squinting against the unwelcome light. The remnants of last night's revelry clung to him like a heavy cloak, and the scent of wine and perfume hung in the air. His memory was foggy as it always was - laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets. A soft moan escaped his lips as he realised he was not alone. A figure stirred beside him, sheets shifting as the previous night's conquest shifted in her sleep.

With a weary sigh, Jaskier pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his temples as if he could physically massage away the throbbing headache. He glanced at the woman still peacefully slumbering beside him, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of regret crossed his features. This was not how he envisioned waking up each morning, but it had become a routine—one he couldn't easily break. With a groan of frustration, he'd give up on his efforts to get out of bed and collapse back into the pillows for a while longer. Someone would come retrieve him eventually.

Planned Manorian starter for @maasmuse

Dorian had always loved parties - especially ones where there was an open bar. The chance to let loose; drink, dance, flirt... it was exhilarating. Chaol always hated it of course. Even now his loyal friend was standing only a few feet away, ready to jump into action the second he perceived any threat nearby. Not that anyone would dare try to attack the Crown Prince at ball currently held in his honor. These were the only parties he didn’t quite enjoy. While it was meant for him, his mother had been the one to plan everything with Dorian receiving little say in the matter besides insisting there be plenty of wine and liquor. 

There was also the matter of the reasoning for the ball. Dorian Havilliard, Crown Prince of Adarlan and notorious womanizer was meant to find a match. He had only just managed to talk his father out of an arranged marriage, but he was now 22 and hadn’t even had a steady relationship in his life. So his mother had suggested throwing this ball - and he had been warned that he would have someone by the end of the night. 

Just thinking about it made Dorian need a drink. He didn’t even tell Chaol before he drifted over to the bar on the other side of the room, weaving through the crowd of dresses and suits; the man would follow anyway. As he moved he caught a flash of white hair near the bar. It was a fascinating shade, made even more fascinating when he realized that the woman wearing it wasn’t wearing one of the fancy gowns every other young woman here seemed to be wearing. It wasn’t one of the uniforms the servers and staff were wearing though, so he knew she must be a guest. Curious, the prince approached her. 

“You don’t look like the usual guests I have to deal with at these events. Who might you be?”

@maasmuse​

“Thank you, thank you. I do so love an adoring audience, but just how MUCH is that adoration worth? A bard must eat, after all!”

Leila Starter for @maasmuse​

Leila did her best to keep her cloaked head down in this place, this other kingdom. She’d been on the run since she’d separated from Tobias and his family (for their own safety). She needed a plan to destroy her father and take back her kingdom. Somehow she’d been even less successful than when she was locked inside the fortress- at least then she’d been able to pick off the senators.

Sighing heavily, Leila sipped at her ale, brooding. She didn’t for one second believe that her father didn’t have spies and assassins looking for her everywhere, even. It was with that thought that Leila’s eyes swept the room- some would call it paranoia, but the previous attempts on her life would beg to differ. She noted the man who seemed to be paying attention to only her as she returned her gaze to her drink. She’d been right, then. She lingered for a moment longer before she made a swift exit from the tavern.

Just as she expected, she was followed. She weaved her way through the street for a bit longer and then paused to glance back. Then, she let her magic fill her as she disappeared from where she was and reappeared behind her would-be assassin in a smoke-like shadow. She pressed a dagger to his neck, despite her slight stature. ❝Whatever Brontes is offering you isn’t worth your life,❞ she growled, pressing the blade further against his skin. ❝Forget you ever saw me or die here like the rat you are.❞

Her assassin laughed and made a move to grab her. But, she was expecting it. The thin line of blood was an indication of just how shallow she’d cut him as she used her power to Shadow Walk again, but, away from him this time, down the street, trying to disappear into the crowd, though her heart was beating wildly.

For Malia,

Why do you try so hard to fit in? Why do your friends make you? I wonder, is it because everyone is afraid how powerful you would be if you let your beast loose?

From Manon

No pressure if not interested, Manon was just curious XD

Malia’s brows knit, a distrustful sort of way. “No, it’s not about power. Though I am strong. Really strong.” Stronger now that she’d taken her mother’s power, as well. “If I let go too much, I’m just a coyote, though. And if I let go, but don’t go that far, then people notice. People with guns. Getting shot hurts.”

❝ you’re awful calm about it. ❞

Manon to Jask

“Oh, I am calm about absolutely nothing, you just can’t tell. Sometimes I have a good poker face. I lied, I never have a good poker face. Not even slightly. I am terrible at card games. Gambling is something I should probably avoid. Am I rambling? I might be rambling. Oh fuck.”

MaasMuse April 04, 2021 at 07:38AM

by MaasMuse

A (hopefully at some point) collection of short stories featuring Ciri and Aelin and their adventures as a couple as well as a healthy dose of angst and idiots in love.

Words: 1795, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Characters: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien

Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/ Aelin Galathynius

Additional Tags: CirixAelin

@maasmuse

Despite the trials they had faced in the desert, they had made it back to safety and without Fallon murdering him - though he was sure it came very close. The sight of the still under construction castle filled him with relief. He felt filthy and exhausted, he really would kill for a bath. Many things crossed his mind though, would others say anything about what had happened in the woods? Was his secret fully out? Or just among the Thirteen. He would be okay with the latter he thought, less so the whole population of Witches. For now. First things first though was making it known they'd made their way back, he found himself extremely eager to see Manon.

@maasmuse for Fallon

Margot Louisa, Princess Royal of the Pankratz Lettenhove family was beautiful, bright and a little (a lot) spoiled. Inevitable when it was her brother who doted on her and whole range of servants raised her. While she did get told no, it was rare and she had talents to get her own way.

"Oh how terrible." She giggled with some of her ladies as they discussed their key pass time of the latest courtly gossip. She worked hard to keep the right things being passed around on her brother's behalf given he couldn't get involved in such things and didn't have the time.

Upon the return of her favoured lady though she saw her and quickly dismissed them. No longer interested in what they had to report, whereas she did want to hear from Fallon.

"What took you so long?!“ She complained, with a small sulking frown.

"Jeyne's idea of courtly intrigue is so dire."

@maasmuse​ whoops? 

Maggie sat in her quarters, hands wringing nervously together to try and ease her anxiety. She’d seen her husband be dragged away to gods knows where, but they just locked her in here, waiting for an audience with their commander who wished to set his sights on her. Would they kill her too? No - worse. Her Nilfgaardian was weak at best but she understood what they had said near enough. The commander She felt sick, her husband was a good if not dull man but like most...he was proud. Nilfgaard would not spare him. She knew that in her gut.  --- Unfortunately, she proved to be right when the commander decided a pretty noble wife even if they were northern would be a good prize. She despised him and every moment forced to meet with him. He hadn’t laid a hand on her yet but her gut knew he would. She wanted to run from this but where to? She’d either get caught or die or be harmed from some other means by herself. She was trapped here. All she could hope for would be him hurrying up the marrying process now that her courses had not arrived twice. For the unborn child’s sake, he had to think it was his when she was discovered. 

Plotted Starter for @maasmuse​​ - Hello Again!

“After him! Don’t let the minstrel get away!”  Shit, fuck. Jaskier thought as he ran as fast as his legs could take him. This really wasn’t how he planned on his evening going, he thought as he barreled through a crowd earning him quite a few insults in the process but it did slow his pursuers enough to get a good distance but he could still hear them so he wouldn’t stop his running just yet.  How was he to know that the lovely lady he had been speaking to was the wife of a crime underworld leader? Not a question one someone particularly asks when you first meet them. ‘So before we go any further do you have a partner who will happily boil my skin off for talking to you?’  Quite the mood killer if you asked him. Jaskier ducked down a side alley hoping that they might assume he continued straight on, he knew he couldn’t continue at this sprinting speed - his side was hurting and his breath was getting harder and harder to catch. Unfortunately these bonehead henchmen had more sense than he gave them credit for and he heard them agree to split up with one group heading down the alley where he was trying to catch his breath. Right! Off he goes again and he sprinted further down it only to be met with a dead end.  Shit. Right...think Jaskier, think. You are not going to die today. You are too pretty to die. The world would be bereft without you. He closed his eyes to try and focus and then suddenly the world whirred around him then he hit the ground. The yelling was gone though. Had they given up? He was almost afraid to open his eyes so he’d do one by the one. Though when he would, he wouldn’t see angry henchmen, or the alley he was trapped down. He didn’t truly know exactly where he was. Not immediately.

Well, this could be good - or it could be worse. Guess he’d wait and see. 

Whoops baldurs gate time 😇- @maasmuse

How did they get here? Memory did not return quickly as Jaskier regained his consciousness. What he was conscious of though was the pod that entrapped him waking him more fully with a jolt as it opened and he fell straight out of it onto the hard cold floor with a thud.

His head throbbed and the movement of the environment made his stomach lurch. Memories then began seeping back but he shoved them down to not collapse into a mindless panic.

Just how he'd gotten here was what he let himself recall. It had been a rushed whirr of a portal gone wrong. Something flew through his path as he took it resulting in him being flung off course. Him..and Manon. Shit fuck. Where was Manon?

Semi plotted starter - @maasmuse - for Manon

Jaskier didn’t much like that he had send messages through secret channels but he didn’t trust his manager as far as he could throw him at the best of times - let alone now.

He needed someone who didn’t have a stake in how much money his next album was going to make. Someone who gave no shits about the Corpo world and what the repercussions was. He’d requested the best for a task that would seem stupidly easy money to most Mercs.  

He had no interest in working with a fixer though, he needed to converse with the person directly and build that relationship rather than someone else entirely. Once he had their info though he would take time to preen before calling them. Always had to look his best after all. 

Finally he’d press call, hoping the person would actually answer their call. 

Semi plotted thing for @maasmuse​ - Dragon Age brain rot time

Jaskier quite liked Haven, it was quaint to what he had been raised in but considerably less populated than the circle. Despite all of the Inquisition forces increasing by the day, there was still enough space to go somewhere for some peace and quiet.  Today would be a day where he couldn’t take advantage of such things though. He’d been called out to see to an issue with Cassandra, Dorian and Sera in tow. His companions of choice on this endeavour were apt enough for him, he and Dorian had very compatible magic styles, Cassandra had the good amount of force and Sera well, Sera liked sticking arrows into people.  “Herald, thank you for coming.” Scout Harding smiled warmly at Jaskier who returned it with even more warmth.  “Any opportunity to get a quick chat with you.” He flirted just a little, he never could help himself with that. Scout Harding did blush quite prettily too. How Josie believed he had been too shy to admit his feelings for the Templar in the Circle was still amusing to him. Oh well, it kept the mystery around it.  “There is a prisoner we managed to capture at our camp, we’ve not been able to get anything out of her but she killed a good amount of our men before we were able to restrain her. We think she might know something.” Harding explained.  “So you think I might be able to talk to her?” Jaskier asked.  “If she killed our men, she should be punished Jaskier.” Cassandra chimed in and he hummed noncommittally. There were lots of reasons people killed, he didn’t want to write off this woman so quickly. Especially if Scout Harding was correct and she did know something. They needed all hands on deck after all, perhaps she could be useful. 

@maasmuse​​ asked: 

"Sir, isn't there another mission I could take! Any. I'm more than happy to go into a war zone. You know that!"

Manon for Jaskier

“You have been assigned this one Blackbeak.” A man in a suit replied not looking over at her.  Both Manon and Jaskier would learn a lot from each other being partnered up. Or that was what he hoped to happen.  “I am not reassigning so you should go meet your partner now.” Before she tried to continue to argue. He’d expected her to argue about it. One small protest was fine, two was insubordination.