#witcher kiyan

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Gezras of Leyda & Kiyan Characters: Kiyan (The Witcher), Gezras of Leyda Additional Tags: Witcher Trials (The Witcher), Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Dreams, Visions, Rites of Passage, Hallucinations, Dreams and Nightmares, Omens, Pre-Canon, Death as an entity, Unreliable Narrator, no seriously guys super unreliable, Kiyan is a zealot, Mentioned Brehen (The Witcher), I Shook A Witcher And Intergenerational Trauma Fell Out (The Witcher), Did I Mention Unreliable Narrator?, unintentional self-harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm Series: Part 4 of Beyond the Veil Summary:

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Prince Adrien/Kiyan (The Witcher), Kiyan & Joël (The Witcher), Kiyan & OC (The Witcher) Characters: Prince Adrien (The Witcher), Kiyan (The Witcher), Joël (The Witcher), Original Male Character(s) of Color, Original Borsodi Brothers Additional Tags: Found Family, Legends, Mermaids, Post-Quest: Cat School Gear Scavenger Hunt (The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt), Birthday, Swordfighting, Swords, Character(s) of Color, Gods, Canon-Typical Violence, Sparring, Fairy Tale Curses, Pagan Gods, Adventure Series: Part 9 of Unbury The Gays

Summary:

In the midst of a charged sparring match, Adrien surprises Kiyan with an unexpected request. Shemihaza, a saber of deep personal significance, is more than just a weapon—it's a piece of Adrien’s past, imbued with meaning and memories. Kiyan’s task will be to pass it on, returning it to its rightful owner. A witcher knows better than anyone how difficult it is to part with a beloved blade.

Kiyan has spent years saving for a new sword of his own, enduring hardships and sacrifices along the way. Yet, when Adrien’s prized saber is given away, Kiyan chooses to forgo his long-awaited weapon and instead forge something truly unique for the prince—a blade that could rival even the legendary Shemihaza. To do so, he must seek out a master blacksmith capable of crafting such a weapon, but his journey will take him far beyond Novigrad. Along the way, he will uncover forgotten legends, discover secrets of ancient gods, and follow a mysterious trail that leads him to the mythical island of Jurata, the Queen of the Seas.

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Today, Kiyan was testing one of the many steel swords from Adrien’s extensive collection—his temporary arsenal ever since he’d lost his own during Ireneus’s ambush. The witcher adjusted his grip on the ornate longsword, gauging its balance as Adrien lunged at him, his Ofieri saber cutting through the air with a graceful, deadly arc. Their duel was both a rigorous exercise and a game of subtle seduction, a physical dance that kept them sharp during the long, gray winter days. The prince was relentless, his movements precise, his footwork light despite the fatigue that weighed on his limbs. But Kiyan had seen the signs—the subtle hitch in Adrien’s breath, the slight delay in his parries, the sheen of sweat darkening his collar and shirt clinging to his toned frame. The duel had gone on long enough for the human body to falter.

Adrien, of course, refused to yield.

Chapters: 5/5

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Prince Adrien/Kiyan (The Witcher)

Characters: Kiyan (The Witcher), Prince Adrien (The Witcher)

Additional Tags: Modren Au, Artist/Muse, Painting, Rare Pairings, Fade to Black, Lack of Communication, Miscommunication, mention of suicidal thoughts, Not Beta Read

The doorbell rang to find Kiyan in the kitchen, half an hour after the reminder on his phone had alerted him that the meeting was about to start. Honestly, Kiyan thought his client wasn't going to show up, it wouldn't be the first time someone made an appointment and didn't turn up. It was extremely annoying, but there was little he could do about it. At the same time, since Kiyan had gotten used to the idea of a free evening, being half an hour late seemed even more annoying.

"You're late," he announced coldly as he opened the door for the man waiting on the threshold. Kiyan had no patience for people who wasted his time and made no attempt to hide his disapproval.

"Good evening," the man replied with a slight, almost apologetic smile at the corner of his mouth. It could be a sign of remorse, but Kiyan saw amusement in his guest's dark eyes. No, it wasn't remorse. A rather indulgent smirk from someone who thinks others should wait for him. "Sorry to be late, terrible traffic jams on the roads, I was caught in the rush hour".

Kiyan's eyebrow twitched dangerously at the man's casual explanation. He wanted to slam the door in his face, but he held back his violent impulses. Firstly, he was an adult and could control himself. Second, he was a professional and cared about his reputation. And thirdly, he needed the money and the guy looked rich.

He was a tall man, about half a head taller than Kiyan, and he had an impeccable figure that was accentuated by his very well-chosen clothes. He wore an expensive suit under his unbuttoned black coat, but no tie. The collar was casually open, and on his wrist was a gold watch, probably worth more than Kiyan's flat. Yes, the client was definitely solvent.

Regarding his appearance, Kiyan looked boldly into his guest's eyes and studied with satisfaction the symmetrical face, with pronounced cheekbones and a defined jaw, surrounded by a neatly trimmed black beard. The eyes were the perfect distance apart, large and dark, with long black lashes. The only imperfection in this handsome face seemed to be the nose, a little too long overall, with a slight bump, but somehow it suited him, giving the man's face more character and expression. The visitor's long black curly hair, neatly tied back at the nape of his neck, was also a lovely sight, and his smooth skin was a pleasant shade of golden brown. There was no doubt that the client was a very attractive man, so this job promised to be pleasant despite the delay.

"Does my being late mean that I won't be invited in?" the man finally asked, and Kiyan realized that he had been staring at the client, who was still standing at the door.

"Please come in," he replied, still somewhat distracted, and opened the door wider so that his visitor could finally enter. "To be honest, I didn't think you were going to show up."

"There is no way I would pass up such an opportunity." The man smiled brightly, but there was something predatory about it.

Ask and ye shall receive, my friend! It ended up just slightly angstier than intended, because witchers and Vesemir are involved, but I hope it meets your expectations for the Kitten Shenanigans™. Full disclosure, it is heavily inspired by this post.

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Kittens love to be tossed.

This epiphany —perhaps the most important one in all of Guxart’s many, many years of raising kittens into Cats— came at the cost of his ungreyed temples and his witcher-slow pulse. All he remembers now, four decades later, is that he had been walking through a Toussaint forest with Gezras when a horrible, ear-piercing shriek shattered the peaceful morning air. It had ripped through him like poison. Made his guts fall through to his feet. Nearly took him out at the knees before he whipped his useless body around, sprinting to the source, the lake where he’d left his kittens to bathe. Another scream found his ears, and he barely fucking registers the orange blur of Gezras beside him as he pushed ahead, bursting though the treeline to save his kitten 

“Lexandre!”

The sound nearly tore his throat apart, but how could he care? Just beyond the shores stood Lexandre, cowering from the claws of a water hag. He ran. Vicious, disgusting claws tore into his back as he tackled his kitten, curling him into his chest and away from the danger. He barely felt them, just kicked away underwater as fast as he could, hearing the sound of steel on flesh, knowing that Gezras had the danger in hand so he could focus on getting his precious cargo to safety. When Lexandre began to scratch at his arm, he pulled them upwards to the surface, took their heads above the sudden waves.

He expected screaming. He expected whimpering and sobbing, to have to comfort his kittens and scold them in the morning.

He hadn’t expected laughter.

—

— — —

—

From that day onward —when the beat of his heart had kept pace only with the rapid, joyful cries of “Again! Again! Again!” as rowdy kits begged to be tackled once more— Guxart had a new tool to wrangle his growing clowder. Lakes, rivers, bushes, leaf piles, snowdrifts, pillows. Other kittens, on occasion. And oftentimes, right back into his arms. Any and every surface that could give them a somewhat soft landing, and Guxart has both an irresistible reward for good behavior and a deterrent for excessive mischief, all in one. Good kits are tossed, repeatedly. Naughty kits would have to, unsatisfyingly, throw themselves. It minimizes considerable damage. So, when he decides to show Vesemir his newfound knowledge, he expects more gratitude than he gets, and maybe even a fun, tossing-related reward of his own.

“What the actual fuck, Guxart.”

It was foolish, in retrospect.

“What? They’re having fun, look at ‘em.” 

Guxart’s newest charge, a dwarvish girl just barely past five summers, falls hard into his arms, giggling with glee. Kiyan’s weight pulls at the strained muscles of his back the same way her smile pulls at the strained strings of his too-soft heart. Shrödinger handles his other kit, Joël, in a similar manner, tossing him higher still. The pair had done excellent in their drills today, and had been slowly learning to hold knives properly with no delays, thanks to the promise of being tossed. His wolf snarls, curling his lip. It’s handsome, but ultimately unnecessary.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, damnit! What the fuck are you even doing to them? What for?”

“I’ll be fine, pretty boy. My kits aren’t so big yet. And it’s called kitten-tossing, a favorite pastime around here.”

He catches Kiyan again, and lets the resistant kitten wiggle her way out of his arms to be tossed by some other willing elder before turning back to his sometimes-lover.

“The long and short is that they like it. It keeps the hellions sweet, and I thought you’d appreciate that for your own little pack. I’m sure they’re no kits, but surely not all of your pups are as stiff as the pole stuck up Rennes’ ass.”

“Don’t you bring up Rennes, not when he doesn’t know I’m even here. What are you coddling them for? With their odds, what’s the point?”

Guxart sighs, rubbing at his graying temples. The movement makes his shoulder twinge again, but he ignores it again.

“Fuck off, Vesi. I can love them at least a little while, or however long they last. Besides, I think it really does help them —we don’t just get lucky picking acrobatic children, not with how desperate we’ve been for new trainees. The throwing… balances them, oddly enough.”

“Maybe. Or it’ could be what makes them all crazy.”

It’s a low blow, and it stings like bitter herbs in a fresh wound. But Vesemir can’t stay for long, so Guxart lets it slide with a wink and a laugh. A joke.

“Then what’s my excuse, hm? And yours, for coming here?”

“Don’t make it like that. You’ve always had your way of handling your recruits, and I won’t stop you. Lexandre turned out mostly fine, explosives aside.”

With that, the Wolf bumps his hip against Guxart’s, the best apology he can make, and Guxart takes it. He likes his way, and this method is one of his best to not only prepare his kittens for witcher life, but show them some kind of affection under the guise of training. It works, whether Vesemir understands it or not. He’ll bet anything the bastard adopts it himself, once he gets a pup who needs it badly enough.

Prince Adrien/Kiyan (The Witcher)

fics:

Dream by Advena87 and Gavilan

Two years after Kiyan's rescue, the nightmares weren’t as vivid and painful as they had been in the beginning, especially with Adrien’s calming, familiar scent and warmth beside him. Calming, that is, except the nights that Adrien also suffered nightmares of his own.

Saovine was approaching, the nights were growing longer and colder, and Adrien's nightmares more frequent. The prince still didn't want to talk about them, and Kiyan didn't know how to break the standstill. He wanted to help him, but there was nothing he could do but hold him in his arms.

Stray Cat by Advena87 and Gavilan

"If a cat runs away, you should tie a bell around his neck. Then you will always know where he is." Adrien doesn't know what's going on in Kiyan's life that keeps him running away, but he's determined to keep trying to build something with his mysterious stranger.

Who Sows the Wind, Reaps the Storm by Advena87 and Gavilan

Headcanon: Kiyan

My main one for Kiyan is actually wrapped up in Jerome's story.

The reason that no one knows what happened to Jerome is because he escapes his father. When he's rifling the office, blood still in his teeth, he finds research from the mage holding Kiyan. There are detailed notes about Kiyan's body, his mutagens and some preliminary tests. Jerome, being a Griffin and thus raised like a knight, can't leave a brother in distress.

He expects to turn up and have to put Kiyan down. He can barely walk or hold a sword himself. It won't be much of a fight. Jerome gets to Kiyan before the mage can do his worst (that Gwent card haunts me, Jay).