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    Summary

    “Hello my daughter,” Pavetta whispers. She smooths a hand over her daughter’s ashen blonde hair, so much like her own. Pavetta idly wonders if she will inherit her own striking green eyes, or the steady dark brown of her father, Duny.
     
    As if fated by Destiny itself, the babe blinks her eyes open. Her big, beautiful, bright cornflower blue eyes. Distantly, Pavetta hears the bard in the corner reaching the end of his song, the strings of the lute building into a resounding crescendo. She has a sudden flash of memory, of those strong lutist fingers pressed against her bare spine, playing a different kind of song.

    Ah fuck, Pavetta thinks, more than a little hysterically. Ah, fuck.

    Or, a Witcher AU where Jaskier is Ciri’s biological father.

    Language:
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    Words:
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    Chapters:
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