Work Text:
‘Twas the night of Midwinter, and all through the keep
The witchers were resting, all tucked in to sleep;
Their swords had been polished and hung on the rack,
The armor and potions were stowed in the back;
Eskel was stretched out alone by the fire;
Lambert and his cat went upstairs to retire;
And Geralt in his braies, and Jask in his hat,
Had drank themselves silly on Est Est and cognac;
When all of a sudden there came a great sound,
It rattled the courtyard and shook the ground.
The witchers and bard blinked sleep from their eyes,
Shuffled to the windows and gasped in surprise;
The snow that had fallen on rough cobblestone
Rippled in drifts as its banks were blown;
The torches flickered and cast golden light
On a whirling vortex that came into sight;
It opened before them and lo and behold,
Yennefer stepped out with Triss Merigold!
Their arms were laden with trinkets and treats,
Phylacteries, gemstones, magic swords, and sweets;
“Now, Geralt! Now, Eskel! Now Lambert and Aiden!
Oh, Jaskier! Oh, Vesemir! Ciri, go wake them!
Get your asses down here and carry this in!
Yuletide is here, let the party begin!”
The lanterns were lit with a flick and a sign,
Glasses were filled with fine Beauclairois wine;
The larder was raided for venison, ham,
And rum cakes stacked beside sweet, roasted yam.
The Gwent cards were sorted and wagers were made,
Jask tuned his lute for a bawdy serenade;
Ciri made Geralt start a dance, like a ball,
While Triss conjured mistletoe, decking the hall;
The witchers wore sleep clothes, the mages wore gowns,
They merrily frolicked and spun round and round;
Yen gave them each a treasure or potion,
She explained each gift, stirring up a commotion;
To Lambert she gifted a balm for his moods;
To Geralt she gave a collection of snoods;
Eskel was given a collar for his goat,
And Ciri received a more practical coat;
Ves and Aiden got potions of healing,
Though Jaskier’s prize was the most appealing:
A sparkling doublet encrusted with gemstone,
He donned it and posed like a king on his throne;
The witchers, however, would not be outdone,
Their sorceress friends were second to none;
They brought out their gifts of fine silk and fur,
Diamonds and oils of rose, lilac, and myrrh;
Jask sang a ballad to their beauty renowned,
And one to their brains and strength unbound;
When the bottles were empty and feast all gone,
They piled together to watch the dawn;
It was cozy and warm all heaped together,
Safe from the monsters and bandits and weather;
Ciri sighed and relaxed as they all fell asleep,
“Happy Yule,” she whispered, “from the Kaer Morhen keep!”