#like geralt knows this about lambert

[minne-cerbinna]

I'm playing TW1 again and I have thoughts about this tiny little sequence in the Chapter 2 quest "Memories of a Blade", which amounts to the only mention of Coën in the game.

When undertaking this quest, Geralt is investigating the origin of the silver sword he was given to slay a cockatrice; he mistakenly believes that it might be Berengar's sword since he knows the other witcher to have been in the area. A conversation with Thaler, from whom the sword was confiscated by the guard, will lead him eventually to speak to the Gardener outside St. Lebioda's hospital in Vizima. This man used to be a mercenary under Pretty Kitty, but has since retired and works as a gardener, and had lost the silver sword at dice poker. When interacted with, he will begin any conversation with "Look how they grow!", referring to the plants in his garden. The player can then initiate the quest dialogue with option one, "I'm more interested in silver swords".

GERALT: I'm more interested in silver swords.

GARDENER: I knew one of you would come by eventually.

GERALT: You lost it playing dice?

GARDENER: I was sure I'd win. Beware, the sharp one plays well.

GERALT: Where did you get this sword?

GARDENER: Five years ago, there was a battle near Brenna. When the dust had settled, our men had beaten the Nilfgaardians. We ceased to call ourselves an imperial province that day.

GERALT: You captured the sword during the battle?

GARDENER: Yes, it was witcher Cöen's [sic]. A strapping fellow and a rare breed. Not very talkative, mind you.

GERALT: Like most of us.

GARDENER: I gave my word the sword would find another witcher. As he lay dying, he mumbled about teeth and destiny. Then he laughed -- at his own death.

GERALT: Yet you lost it gambling?

GARDENER: I kept it hidden for five years. I lost hope I'd ever run into another witcher. Miss Shani knew Cöen [sic]. She works at the hospital.

GERALT: Thanks.

GARDENER: Good luck on the path!

The quest will lead you to speak with Shani, then Zoltan, but neither will provide further information on Coën, aside from Shani mentioning that he died on her operating table -- Shani's dialogue is to provide her backstory as a medic at Brenna and to mention Rusty, and Zoltan simply assesses the quality of the blade to ensure that it is a witcher blade of good workmanship. It has no further significance to Geralt, who, without his memory, has no idea who Coën is and has more pressing matters to deal with than to look into the past of a man who died five years ago (according to the somewhat off-kilter game timeline, anyway). But it's the only mention of Coën in the games, and I find that it's a very interesting way to manifest his presence.

I think it is reasonable to tie Coën quite closely to his sword on a symbolic level, if one considers his appearance in the novels where he not only trains with Ciri, but his prowess with a sword is unrivaled even by the other witchers to the point where she believes that he may be the best swordsman in the world. Additionally, the fact that he fought at Brenna at all means that he offered his sword in the service of the Northern Kingdoms, and when he dies, he is identified by his peers as a "master swordsman" rather than as a witcher, despite the fact that they know of his nature. As such, Coën's sword is a very important possession for him to leave behind.

And from there, there is a connection to Lambert, left unsaid. To go beyond the simple fact that Coën was Lambert's friend, someone dearly loved who was close enough with Lambert and his family to get on with the other wolves and stay a winter at Kaer Morhen, the importance lies with the sword. As with any witcher, Coën wouldn't have much in the way of worldly possessions to bequeath onto someone else in the event of his prophecied death. But he does have his swords, which are established as symbolically important to him. A steel sword could be taken up by any warrior capable enough to use it, but a silver sword belongs in the hands of a witcher, and that is what Coën asked for on his deathbed, for his silver sword to be given to another witcher. While it's very possible that this is meant in a general way, that he just wanted any other witcher to take it up, to avoid the sword being wasted, broken, or dismantled for its composite parts, it also strikes me as possible that he could have intended it for a specific witcher.

Lambert is one of the instructors for Ciri when she's first learning the swordplay and acrobatics associated with being a witcher. Lambert is the one in the first game to provide the instructional descriptions of the Fighting Styles for Geralt to regain his swordplay competencies after losing his memories. And there is another bit of dialogue in TW3 that really emphasises both Lambert's connection to Vesemir, the swordmaster of Kaer Morhen, and the idea of swords as inheritance, as a manifestation of closeness:

LAMBERT: Knew the old man couldn't live forever. Huh, even told Eskel that when it came time, I'd get his sword. Fits my hand perfectly, you know.

Which is a heartbreaking notion in and of itself upon which I could expostulate, the symbolism there in the fraught relationship between Lambert and his father figure reduced to something as simple as a hilt that fits two hands perfectly. But if this is the inheritance that Lambert wants, it makes it all the more pertinent that Coën desperately wanted his silver sword to make it into the hands of another witcher. Lambert, the son of a swordmaster, wants to take on a sword as a memento of someone he has lost, and Coën, the master swordsman, left his sword behind. Even if Lambert were not the specific intended target of the sword, he would have possibly or even likely known Coën well enough to fulfill his wishes, whatever they might be.

And yet Coën's sword never makes it home or into the hands of someone who would value it, like Lambert would, this last memory of his dear friend. Geralt makes use of the sword during his time in Vizima, and then it is lost, replaced by the gifted Aerondight. And so Coën is lost with it, never mentioned again.

[thequeeninyellowlace]

When Jaskier gets distracted, Eskel just…points him in the right direction. It’s marvelously effective, and Geralt is immensely jealous that his hands aren’t quite big enough to have the same effect.

He tried it once. Jaskier just started rubbing against Geralt’s hand and purring like a cat being petted instead of turning his head. Geralt yanked his hand away in shock and embarrassment, and Eskel laughed so hard he almost fell off the dining room bench.

[gwentbleidd]

the concept of geralt being painfully unaware and making everything confusing is so funny tbh. i mean, imagine the situation:

literally everyone thinks that geralt and jaskier are together. everyone. except geralt.

why? well.

tb to that one time when lambert was making fun of him because 'oh geralt you look like shit, you didn't sleep well last nigh, huh?' so geralt answers, like it's nothing, 'no, jaskier kept me up all night', making lambert choke. to be fair, geralt agrees that listening to jaskier singing his stupid little songs till white morning wasn’t a nice experience. even if lambert is being overdramatic about it.

then some other time, a woman offers him and jaskier to spend the night at her inn while they're on the path. it's true that nights are getting colder but oh, geralt is used to it and so he explains 'no. thank you, but i sleep with the bard'. he doesn't know why the woman goes red in the face, why she starts to stutter and doesn't look geralt in the face anymore. weird but okay, not his problem.

it happens so many times until someone eventually points it out to geralt.

it's even funnier when he AND jaskier are confused after that, just for entirely different reasons

yennefer: no, geralt. enough. you need to stop making people think you and jaskier are together

geralt: what?, we're not together.

jaskier: we aRE NOT????

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Due to his school being a little more diverse in the contracts it accepts (assassination, theft, etc), you can bet Aiden's going be a pretty passable actor, or at least have some decent improv skills when the occasion calls for it. Jaskier is a bard and a spy - enough said.

So, picture the two of them engaging in a friendly one upmanship of situations they've had to bullshit their way out of while Lambert and Geralt just sit listening in mute horror and strongly considering child harnesses for their SO's because 'fucking hell, how are these two actually still alive??!!?'

Geralt: I'm never letting you out of my sight again.

Jaskier: I know Love. Finish your porridge.

Lambert: Wait, that was when....where the fuck was I during all this?

Aiden: I snuck out when you were occupied at the Inn. We weren't even fucking at that point and you looked like you were getting somewhere with that Skellige bloke, I didn't want to interrupt. Besides, it should have been just a quick in and out.

Jaskier: Is that what Lambert said to the Skellige bloke?

*Lambert starts spluttering and choking around his mouthful of small ale while Aiden just about falls out of his seat he's laughing so hard.*

[lassieposting]

Okay so

In the last ep of S2, we see Jaskier asleep in a room at Kaer Morhen. There are three interesting details about this scene.

The room actually looks somewhat lived-in compared to the empty, spiderweb-ridden rooms Ciri explores in an earlier episode. Jaskier hasn't been at Kaer Morhen long enough to have a lived-in guest room.

When Yennefer gets him out of bed, we see him grab his coat, which is lying next to a mostly-empty bottle of booze. He also asks Yen if she's making a hangover cure, because he feels like shit. He wasn't drunk when Geralt asked him to take Ciri home, so we know that his first night at Kaer Morhen, he got white girl wasted.

He's mostly dressed in bed. Like, he's still got his boots on, even. The only thing he seems to have taken off is his coat. But he's not shivering or curled up like he's very cold. He seems quite comfy.

This makes me think five things.

Jask met Geralt's family for the first time and promptly got blitzed with them. That's why he's the only one in the keep with a hangover - they can't get drunk on his booze.

What do Jaskier and the Witchers have in common to talk about? Well, Geralt, of course. Not only do Vesemir and the boys get a detailed rundown of every amusing anecdote Jask has from his 20+ years travelling with Geralt (along with a heaped helping of Poetic Drunken Yearning - gods, where did Geralt get this walking bag of feelings?), but Jask also gets treated to Every Embarrassing Thing Baby!Geralt Ever Did.

The room looks lived-in because it's Geralt's. Everyone was too busy drinking and spilling tea to think about making up a guest room for the bard. So when Jaskier finally passes the fuck out, and Vesemir tells Lambert to find him a bed to sleep it off in, Lambert goes "Eh, close enough" and sticks him in Geralt's. Geralt's twink. Geralt's problem.

This is also why Jaskier is still almost totally dressed, boots and all. Lambert is so not going there: he's a Witcher, not a nanny or a nurse. He drops Jask on the bed, flings a blanket over him and calls it a day.

At some point post-S2, Geralt is going to wake up in a cold sweat at like 3am and realise that leaving his bard unattended with his family was a Terrible Idea and they definitely swapped stories and he's not going to hear the end of it from anyone for a really long time

[catscraftsandcommentary]

So I had some time to think tonight at work (in between operating heavy machinery, swearing at the materials, and trying to keep the line running, fun times!) And I asked myself, "self, hypothetically, what might @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU look like in another generation or two - once people really get used to witchers being The Good Guys (TM) and helping out?"

And I was like "well, they'd probably get invited to social events - ooh! Who'd like which events best?!? What would that look like?"

Geralt, as we all know, detests anything too formal or Warlord-focused. He enjoys weddings and receptions, but his TRUE favorite is baby christenings. Seriously. Put him in a room with a tiny baby and he's happy as a clam. He'll happily growl away (or weaponize his puppy-dog eyes against) grannies, aunties, and other family members to hold the baby for as long as possible. He's also 90% of the reason that witchers are now rumored to be able to bless babies.

When Mouse and Treyse bring this new rumor to the council, everyone has to just sit. And process for a minute. Because what the ever-loving fuck?!? (Jaskier immediately writes the sweetest lullaby ever, "A Witcher's Blessing", and it is the ONLY song that Geralt ever sings in public, and only ever to babies and small children. Multiple women blame this for their immediate conceptions.)

Jaskier adores weddings and festivals of all types, and if a happy couple includes details of how they met and/or fell in love with their wedding invitation, there's at least a 50% chance that he'll show up to the wedding with a personalized love song, holy shit.

Ciri loves tourneys. Loves watching them, loves displaying in them, loves sneaking into competing in them (omg, heir, NO), loves WINNING them. She's a menace. She has various stealth coats of arms that she rotates between when she's not supposed to be competing, but her favorite is the battle goose. Obviously.

Eskel doesn't like crowds or being the center of attention, which are almost inevitable with public invitations, but he does enjoy being the +1 for his family. Several of his and their interests overlap, and even where they don't, he likes to see them enjoying themselves.

Yennifer becomes well-known as an extremely efficient - albeit terrifying - treaty negotiator. She'll talk to both sides, get a list of their must haves, deal-breakers, would-likes, and don't-wants (as well as - perhaps more importantly - the reason why each of those are on that particular list). Then she draws up a draft and viciously negotiates a compromise. She is genuinely surprised the first time that both sides thank her for her help.

Vesemir, with all his long years of teaching, loves visiting schools and seeing any sort of student performance or sporting event. Kindergarten to university, drama to music to dance recitals to track and field meets to football games to student symposiums to science contests to... He buys out bake sales and funds club field trips and donates several fortunes worth of antique knick knacks to various schools. He's invited as a guest lecturer, a commencement speaker, a competition judge, a referee.

Lambert and Aiden, at some point, discover bachelor's parties, call dibs, and never look back. People learn very quickly not to invite witchers to their stag nights unless they want the entire party to get horrifyingly drunk - but at least Lam and Aiden will make sure that everyone makes it home (or to the wedding) safely. Perhaps not soberly, or sans hangover, but definitely without major injury. (And if the bride asks nicely and the groom and friends weren't total jerks, Lambert can usually be counted on to make a hangover cure. He really is a softie at heart.)

Dragonfly and Serrit get tapped for the odd bachelorette party or ladies' birthday parties. Anything that falls under "I want to be able to drink and party with my friends without worrying about some strange guy hurting one of us." They are extremely protective and have both been drunkenly proposed to several times. (Livi finds this terribly amusing. Gweld just wants to know if he can watch.) Milena and Zofia sometimes go with them.

Milena loves going to wedding showers and baby showers, but outside Kaer Morhen, she has to stay in sight of Lambert or one of his brothers. Lambert's rule. (She got KIDNAPPED, okay? He's allowed to worry!) Usually she'll take Geralt (there might be babies! He's excellent protection!) or Eskel (he's very quiet and has excellent manners, and his signs are impossible to fight) for the more, ah, female-heavy events. If anyone asks, they're her brother-in-law and genuinely like spending time around kids. And very, very married.

[islenthatur]

So we all know the stories where Jaskier collects Witchers like dnd players and dice, how could he not!? And we all know that the ones where Witchers collect Jaskiers friendship too.

But honestly, I just want a fic where the Witchers mounts and lil bleater just collect the noisy-colourful-being-withsnacks...

Animals are smart okay, the horses talk to eachother because how else would they get civilised conversation and of course they'd brag about who carried the heaviest for longest, how many times their stupid people got hurt...

Roach starts off complaining about the noisy-being that followed them one day that just never stopped making noises or trying to pet her. The years pass and the complaints turn into fondess and she comes home more full and cared for than she had in a long time and her witcher does too.

The others, Scorpion, horse, lil bleater all want to meet the human, try to ease their own witchers burdens and just... does.

Jaskier is away from geralt for a competition, and suddenly, he has a very insistent goat bleating at him, pushing him off the road towards Eskel who was injured.

It just goes on from there... Lambert's mount Horse finds him, lips at the pants roach knew held sugar cubes and both Lambert and Jaskier stare at eachother awkwardly while he feeds horse the cubes.

Word travels between the mounts, a hawk that was a familiar to a Griffin flys down and rests on Jaskiers lute while playing, scaring the fuck out of him but shows him to another injured witcher.

Then the mountain happens

Roach loses her horse mind in anger at her Witcher, there would be no more soft songs, no more flowers in her main or apples, her Noisy-foal gone...

The animals revolt, it's a hard season for all witchers and when Geralt gets back after Cintra and Jaskier is with him the animals just go absolutely ballistic in joy and surround him

All the witchers are just watching with the most adorable wtf faces ever.

[fangirleaconmigo]

Geraskier

So you know how Jaskier (Viscount Julian) left home and changed his name and since he’s always short on cash, one would assume he was cut off (or cut himself off) from the family fortune?

So what if when his parents finally pass away and and he comes into a substantial amount of money, it is right about the time Geralt is really starting to feel the wear and tear on his body and wonder whether he can be a witcher for much longer, and he’s feeling anxious and melancholic about it but hasn’t admitted that to anyone.

But then he gets an invitation from his dearest friend Jaskier to join him on the coast at a cottage for some rest and recovery.

And when he shows up and drops his bags, he is instantly in love with the place. It seems like something he would build himself. Its decorated with items from their many years of travels. Ciri’s first wooden sword is hung on the wall. There is swallow imagery reflecting her as well, in the paintings and etchings. There are buttercups interwoven with wolves.

When Jaskier takes his things, there are hooks and contraptions that are perfectly shaped to hold his swords and armor without scratching or damaging them. The table and chairs are his perfect height. There is even a fireplace styled just like the one at Kaer Morhen, evoking the memories of many nights drinking with Eskel, Lambert, Coën, and Vesemir.

Jaskier hugs him so tightly he coughs, but it warms his heart and he forgets about his melancholy. Then Jaskier leads him by the hand and takes him to the back garden and his brothers and friends and most thrillingly of all, his daughter, are all sitting around with ale and they shout and toast him.

After he is kissed by Ciri and squeezed in many strong arms, he takes Jaskier aside. By then it is dark and the candles and torches are twinkling illuminating the tables where all the war stories are being told with laughter and copious amounts of swearing.

“What is the occasion, Jaskier? What’s going on? When did you buy this place?”

Jaskier looks at him with so much love and fondness, Geralt’s knees feel weak. Its getting harder and harder to hide these damndable feelings for his dearest friend.

“I didn’t buy it.” He says. “I built it.”

“You built it.”

“Well. I paid someone to build it. Obviously. The important question, though, is whether you like it.”

“I do,” says Geralt. “I love it.“

“Good. Because I built it for you. And the occasion is your retirement, or semi-retirement, if you desire it.”

It takes a good half hour to convince Geralt that Jaskier is not joking with him or teasing him. Jaskier places a key in his hand with a wolf etched on it. Geralt walks around the house in a daze. Jaskier follows behind with a gleeful smile. Like Geralt imagines mothers look on their children’s birthdays and they’ve given them the pony they’ve aways wanted. When the tightness has cleared from Geralt’s throat and he isn’t afraid he’ll sound emotional, he speaks.

“Jaskier,” he says, “why? Why would you do this for me?”

“Because,” Jaskier answers, “you deserve it. You’re always doing for others.”

Geralt feels the tightness in his throat again. He looks into his dearest friend’s eyes and his hands stray to Jaskier’s hips of their own accord.

He has never touched him this way. But he is overcome. Not thinking.

Jaskier smiles. “And because I love y—-“

He does not finish the word because Geralt is kissing him.

Ciri and Zoltan have wandered into the kitchen to look for another barrel of ale and the see the two of them kissing.

Ciri whoops and starts clapping. Zoltan mutters “its about godsdamn time.” Geralt’s ears turn red. Jaskier grins proudly.

Geralt has never felt more content. But he still teases Jaskier relentlessly before he invites him to move in with him.

“Its pretty lonely in this place.”

“You know, no reason I bring this up, but I have always wanted to live on the coast…”

“Maybe I should hire a butler, so the house isn’t so quiet…”

“I loathe you, witcher.”

“Actually, I have it on good authority that you love me.”

Geralt does that for a day or two, teasing between kisses, pretending he doesn’t understand what Jaskier is hinting at in the afterglow, for Geralt to invite him to move in.

They set up two chairs on the porch where they can see the waves and sit next to each other, Jaskier fiddling with his lute and notebook, Geralt nursing his wine.

And it is more than he had ever dared to dream.

[wren-of-the-woods]

Hello! Thank you so much for what you do- could I please have some recs for geraskier fics where geralt is the one pining harder?

Here you go!! I wasn't sure how to categorize who was pining harder in all of these (since our boys are masters of longing lol) but these are all stories where Geralt loves Jaskier very much, and I highly enjoyed them all!

~

favorite by @asweetprologue (Rated G, 5.8k)

Jaskier gets Geralt a gift, and it makes Geralt realize he doesn't know enough about what Jaskier likes. He forms a plan to figure it out.

i’ll kiss you slow by @paintedcrayons (Rated T, 4.9k)

Geralt is not being creepy. He’s not. He’s just looking out for his friend (with a questionable choices in lovers). Lately, Geralt has started to notice the way people treat Jaskier’s affection like a means to an end. They kiss him only to move to the next step, dance with him as pretense to get him into their beds. He would like nothing more than to kiss Jaskier for the sake of it. (He does.)

time and time again by @samstree (Rated G, 5.2k)

Marriage proposals, through the years.

The Best Laid Plans by @dhwty-writes (Rated T, 5.5k)

Geralt is in love with Jaskier. In order to finally get him to admit his feelings, he devises a ten step plan with Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir.

A Friend in the Wild by @samstree (Rated G, 1.6k)

In which Geralt acquires a tiny friend who wouldn't stop following him.

Weak and Wanting by @sociallyawkward--fics (Rated T, 36k)

Geralt had thought that inviting Jaskier to Kaer Morhen after all these years would be a good thing. What he didn't plan on was his brothers deciding to have a little fun with their situation. Lambert and Eskel really needed to stop meddling in things they didn't understand, especially when it came to his bard.

Tell It With Your Heart by @bambirex (Rated G, 2.5k)

While Jaskier always says what's on his mind, Geralt works a little differently. That doesn't mean he cannot tell Jaskier how he feels - he just does that without words.

Repeat After Me by @onwardorange (Rated G, 7.3k)

All it takes is (nearly) three years, two meddlesome brothers, and one exasperated sorceress to get Geralt to admit his feelings for Jaskier.

Love Me Better, Send A Letter by @rebrandedbard (Rated T, 12.5k)

Geralt and Julian have been exchanging letters since participating in an inter-school pen pal program in high school, and Geralt has been pining away for Julian for over a decade since meeting by chance one faithful day in Posada. Between work and Ciri, he hasn't had much time for travelling, but he and Julian still exchange their letters faithfully. Finally, Julian's equally busy life coincides with Geralt's long enough for a short visit, and Geralt has the chance to finally introduce Ciri to the man she knows only on paper. Things would be perfect ... if Julian's visit didn't fall within the week of the concert of Ciri's favorite musician, Jaskier.

Music is no solution by @thecrownprincessbride (Rated T, 4.3k)

Jaskier has self-doubts, and Geralt is there for him.

A Careless Omission by @samstree (Rated T, 5.4k)

Jaskier reveals he has a type. Geralt behaves strangely.

Highway Angel (To the Dark I Said Pour and Forgot to Say When) by @fangirleaconmigo T, 2.8k

Geralt is a long haul truck driver. With long stretches on the road away from his family, and with no one to keep him company but his loyal dog Roach, he has to brave most of his life completely alone. Then one day, just as he is passing the city of Oxenfurt, he turns on the radio and hears a voice.

zero for ten by @yaelathewordsmith (Rated T, 10.4k)

The blue-eyed boy on the school's cricket team seems determined to bowl Geralt out. The worst part is, he isn't even fucking trying. * Or, the ten times Jaskier held Geralt's heart in his hands without knowing, and how Geralt grew to want him to keep it.

~

(You can find my other reclists here!)

[echo-bleu]

While I’m staying away from all the speculation, all those posts and memes about Jaskier either being the only one who can see Geralt is different or the only one who can’t and keeps insisting that yes of course, that’s Geralt, are giving me ideas.

Namely: faceblind Jaskier. Bear with me. He can’t recognize any face, including his own in the mirror (when he finds a mirror, it’s not that often). That’s why he flirts with everyone, flirting is just his default mode in case it’s someone he’s met before, because at its core it’s kind of roleplaying. While people may not respond to it well, they mostly don’t bat an eye at cheesy joke-y pickup lines where Jaskier ‘pretends’ to meet them for the first time (”Do you come here often?”). Meanwhile it buys Jaskier time to figure out if he has in fact met them before.

(Demi or ace Jaskier? Who flirts for the reasons above and mostly has sex with people because he figures it’s expected of him?)

It’s also the reason he makes so many enemies. Sure, there are actual cuckooed husbands who hate him, but really it’s mostly former lovers who are horribly offended when Jaskier ‘snubs’ them at a reception because he just didn’t recognize them. Or former lovers horribly offended that he tried to flirt with them again pretending not to know them after they threw him out. There are also plenty of people who were never his lovers at all but are just offended because nobles are Like That.

(There have been some really embarrassing situations. Like the time he tried to flirt with Valdo Marx, his eternal rival, who still laughs about it every time they see each other.)

He latches onto Geralt because Geralt is recognizable. There just aren’t two white-haired wolf-eyed muscular men around. Jaskier never has to worry about seeing him and being unsure if it’s actually his friend and not some random stranger with the same haircut. Geralt also never changes his haircut or his appearance in any way, which is refreshing.

Yennefer is mostly the same, with her violet eyes, although Jaskier does have to get close enough to be sure. They have a few weird encounters where Jaskier starts to flirt with her, gets within a few feet, and immediately backtracks the hell out with a disgusted face. That’s how she figures it out, but it takes her a while. After that she takes great pleasure in teasing him about it, but only in ways that no one else will clock (hence the crows’ feet comment. Jaskier doesn’t even know himself in the mirror. He can’t tell if she’s right. He does obsess over it the whole way up the mountain, but he has other things to think about on the descent).

The witchers of Kaer Morhen, when Jaskier meets them, are so refreshing. They’re all different! Eskel is unmistakeable with his scars, and while they’re within the confines of Kaer Morhen it’s very easy to distinguish Lambert’s red hair from Coen’s shaved head and darker skin from Vesemir’s white beard. Ciri is of course the only kid, so that’s not a problem. For the first time in his life, Jaskier doesn’t feel like he’s playing catch up to a game whose rules he doesn’t know. It’s relaxing.

The witchers, on the other hand, are quite surprised about Jaskier. They’ve been told (many times, over the years) that Jaskier flirts with everyone under the sun. Now Geralt isn’t always the most reliable source, of course, and Eskel never expects anyone to be attracted to him because of his scars (which is a subject for another day), but Jaskier doesn’t even try to flirt, even just friendlily, with either Lambert or Coen. He’s not afraid of them, they would be able to smell that, he seems perfectly comfortable with them, but he doesn’t flirt. At first, they figure that it’s because his newly mended relationship with Geralt is still fragile.

One night they’re all a bit drunk and the witchers are talking about how Jaskier’s songs have helped them on the Path, how many humans are much nicer to them, and in general how hard interacting with humans is. And Jaskier is just nodding along, “Yeah, yeah, interacting with humans is so hard.”

“But you’re always going out of your way to talk to people and flirt!”

“Well yes, I like making friends, but they have so many expectations, and they get angry so easily.”

“That’s only when you flirt with the wrong people,” Geralt growls.

“But how am I supposed to know it’s the wrong people when I can’t recognize them?”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks.

“Faces are hard! I don’t know how people do it, I mean, obviously your scars are distinctive, and I’d recognize Geralt’s hair anywhere, but most humans all look the same!”

Geralt blinks very slowly as it all slots into place in his head. Jaskier’s very strange flirting methods. The way he keeps making enemies without meaning to. Hell, he’s seen Jaskier say hello again to someone they’d seen just minutes before, or completely ignore one of his bard friends at a festival until she came right up to him. “You don’t recognize people?”

Jaskier, who didn’t survive forty-three(ish) years without figuring out that this wasn’t normal, freezes and suddenly looks like a deer in the headlights. “Uh... no?”

“So if, say, Vesemir was to shave his beard, you might confuse him with Geralt?” Lambert asks.

“I’d... probably be able to tell from up close? Geralt’s taller.”

“Wow.” Lambert seems ready to tease him about it, but Eskel stops him.

“How did you never notice?” he asks Geralt.

Geralt just grunts. Jaskier answers for him. “I’m very good at making people feel like we’ve always known each other, I guess. Mostly I just buy time until I can figure out if I’ve met them before.”

The witchers have a million questions, but they never make Jaskier feel like he’s deficient somehow. Jaskier has always been ashamed of it, but to them, it’s just another quirk, like not being able to eat raw meat.

The next time they’re on the road, or at a festival together, Geralt is brooding just as much as usual, eyes darting this way and that, but before Jaskier can go and greet people (with his usual fake-it-till-you-make-it technique), Geralt stops him.

“Your friend Essi’s wearing a yellow dress with red accents,” he mutters under his breath. “Marx has a green doublet, that shade you hate. Avoid the man in the bright purple doublet and the brown pants, you slept with him last time and he threw you out. That woman at the right of the stage with the braid, she has a husband, you tried before.”

Jaskier gets so emotional that he can’t speak for a solid minute, and he ends up hugging Geralt instead. “Didn’t know you paid attention,” he says eventually.

“Just look at me if you’re not sure who someone is, I’ll tell you who to avoid,” Geralt says gruffly.

It’s not a perfect system, but Jaskier doesn’t offend a single person all day.

[jay-arts-t]

Posting a a little today but really like the whole bit the boys have over calling Vesemir old. They all just collectively agree “old man old man”

It’s even funnier when notw makes vesemir only 70, or really 60 something years older than them since they’re around 4-8 age group. And he only looks like he’s in his 20s-early thirties. I’m sure Lambert started it. One day he just asks “why are you so old?” And Vesemir is left shocked. He’s not that old!!! But then when they get back to Kaer Morhen and the boys are a bit older Geralt finally gets to ask all his questions about Kaer Morhen he couldn’t ask before.

“How old is Kaer Morhen?”

“I don’t know Geralt. Old.”

“Are you older than Kaer Morhen or as old?”

Vesemir throws his boots at him. Then that’s when the whole “*insert item* is almost as old as Vesemir!”

HE HATES IT.

When Ciri finally joins them, Lambert immediately teaches her the bit. She is RUTHLESS with her insults. Vesemir is giving her a history lesson in the courtyard since it’s nice out. The boys are fixing one of the walls in the background. He’s telling her about a war that happened around 600 years ago.

“Do you remember what it was like in that time? Since you were there?” Vesemir wants to crawl into a hole and die in it. The boys are basically toppled over in laughter. Lambert starts choking from laughing too hard. Ciri seems extremely pleased with herself.

It starts evolving further into “oh you wanna know about the conjunction of spheres? Oh I dunno, ask Vesemir he was there since before the conjunction.” And “what was it like when dinosaurs were alive, Vesemir?”

AND IT SOMEHOW SPREADS. He’s in a growing town in southern Redania with Geralt and they run into Jaskier. Now he’s never had the fortune of meeting him, but he’s heard plenty. He’s about to thank the poet for looking after Geralt until Jaskier goes “so I’ve heard you’re quite old! Tell me Master Vesemir, what was it like when kingdoms started to form? How did the royal families come to be in power?”

Vesemir is SEETHING. Geralt just smiles like the little shit he is.

[gothiethefairy]

a kaer morhen scenario i thought up today.

it’s late in the night, and jaskier is starting to feel sleepy. geralt, eskel and lambert are having casual talk over a brew of white gull. jaskier says he’ll be going to bed and leans over to give geralt a goodnight kiss. geralt happily accepts this, so used to jaskier’s kisses.

lambert, who is buzzed and likes being a little shit, goes “hey, where’s my goodnight kiss, pigeon?”

geralt throws him an annoyed glare, as eskel, who is also a little bit drunk, chuckles under his breath. jaskier playfully rolls his eyes, and slowly walks up to lambert.

he leans over, gently holding lambert’s face and gives him the softest kiss on his forehead. “good night, lambchop.” jaskier whispers. lambert doesn’t answer back, he is flustered out of his mind.

eskel shyly clears his throat and mumbles about wanting a kiss too. jaskier giggles and walks over to him as well. gently holding eskel’s face as he brushes some of his hair away from eskel’s eyes. he gently kisses the side of eskel’s face where his scars are. “good night, sweet eskel.” jaskier whispers.

jaskier leaves the witchers be, walking back to his and geralt’s bedroom. all three of them are so flustered, lambert doesn’t realize his spilling his drink. eskel just feels giddy over his kiss and tells geralt he’s one lucky bastard. geralt just feels stupidly proud. “yeah i know.” he says smugly.

[dsudis]

Who wants some sleepy domestic Emhyr/Geralt?

Got a kind of bewildering ask yesterday that I won't bother answering directly as it didn't seem particularly relevant to me, but it did remind me how much I enjoyed writing Witcher fic, and that I still have some bits of Emhyr/Geralt(/Eskel) fic I was working on that I've never shared, and I am in a sharing mood today!

This is from what would have been Urbe Aureā #5, in which Emhyr begins his courtship of Eskel by offering him any witcher's favorite thing: a job in Toussaint. Geralt, naturally, goes along with him, and then they come home to the palace in Nilfgaard, mostly unscathed...

Geralt knew just what to do this time, returning to Nilfgaard in the middle of the night. He parted from Eskel with a mumbled agreement to meet again in the morning, shed his weapons and everything else he could without scandalizing any servants he met, and went directly to Emhyr's rooms. 

He reached up to run a hand over the stubble that was all the hair left on the lower part of his head now. It was two days' growth, because that was how long it had taken him, Eskel, and occasionally Lambert, to deal with every other little problem someone had brought to their attention after the wraiths were dealt with.  

He hadn't been dawdling this time--not like the days he'd spent in Tretogor chasing down stray bandits and necrophages. He just... couldn't go off and leave the place knowing there was a problem with giant centipedes popping out of somebody's vineyard, and a nasty ghost haunting somebody else's well--and then he'd had to make a few patrols to check for signs of any vampires who'd started making nuisances of themselves since he left. Those always turned up again when there had been a lot of them in one place, like seeds germinated by a forest fire. 

But now, at last, he was done and back again. He and Eskel had availed themselves of the baths B.-B. had had waiting for them after they got back from sorting out those fleders, and then they'd agreed with barely a word to head back through the portal. They'd left Lambert asleep under his workbench, knowing well that he'd be happier to bitch about them leaving without a goodbye than to actually suffer through any parting scene. 

And, after all, he knew exactly where to find them if he wanted them. 

Geralt let himself into Emhyr's rooms and hesitated, listening out for a moment, but Emhyr didn't rush out to meet him as he had that time before. Maybe he'd slept a little easier, knowing Geralt had left on Emhyr's own errand, and with backup to boot. Maybe he just didn't expect Geralt to have returned after only a few days. 

Either way, there was no point lingering in the sitting room. Geralt let himself into the bedchamber, and his heart did something painful and fond at the sight of Emhyr sleeping. He tried to ignore it, willed it away, even as he was walking over. He was at the side of the bed when he remembered: he loved Emhyr, and he knew that, and Eskel knew that, and Emhyr probably knew that, and as yet that hadn't brought about any more than the usual amount of destruction.  

He could just... feel it. He could look at Emhyr sleeping, with his head on one pillow and another tucked under his arm like he'd lost the knack of sleeping without another body to lean against, and feel like he belonged there. In Emhyr's bed, in his arms, in his life, because that was a role he could fill, a job he could do. He could be the Emperor's Witcher and like it.  

Emhyr didn't move--didn't give himself away, if the lurker in his bedchamber had been anyone less astute--but Geralt knew the moment he woke.  

"Not an assassin," Geralt said softly. "Just--" 

Emhyr pushed himself up to sit, a wash of delight turning his craggy features almost young, in the little light that reached Geralt's eyes. Mindful that Emhyr could see even less than he could in this dark, he stepped forward, holding his hands out, saving Emhyr the trouble of disentangling himself from the bedcovers.  

"My dear witcher," Emhyr murmured, catching his hands and tugging him closer still, then catching his mouth in a kiss. "Where is your partner?" 

Geralt laughed a little against Emhyr's mouth. "Not so quickly won over as that, dear majesty. But he did come back with me, safe and sound. He's in his own room, probably already asleep." 

"Excellent," Emhyr said, and he genuinely did sound pleased. And he'd asked about Eskel first thing, when he might have ignored the whole matter of him until morning, and that, too, made Geralt's heart squeeze.  

"And yourself?" Emhyr went on, his hands releasing Geralt's and sliding up his arms. "You smell clean enough, but you know I am not as keen as one of you. Any injuries? Any trouble?" 

"Not as such," Geralt said, climbing onto the edge of the bed so Emhyr could reach more of him, and taking Emhyr's hand to guide it up to the base of his skull. "Lost some hair." 

"A pity," Emhyr murmured, running warm fingers over the shorn part of Geralt's scalp before he settled his hand on the nape of Geralt's neck and tugged him into a deeper kiss.  

Geralt leaned into Emhyr's firm grip, his whole body easing, muscles relaxing that had been faintly tensed for days on end. That human-strong hold on him and Emhyr's mint-clean mouth coaxing his open meant that he was home safe, done with the job, and it was finally time to let his guard down. He let himself sway into Emhyr, trusting his weight to the solid warmth of Emhyr's body. 

Emhyr let out a little grunt, though his body betrayed no great evidence of straining under the pressure. He closed his other arm around Geralt and eased them both down, not bothering to sort out the covers or get Geralt naked--as though all that mattered was both of them here, at their ease. As though he needed nothing more than that. 

Geralt sighed, nuzzling at Emhyr's chest, and went out like a blown candle. 

[shy-urban-hobbit]

"Whatcha doing, bard?"

Jaskier startled slightly when Aiden plopped down beside him next to the fire, eyes bright with the beginnings of drunkenness as he offered the wine he was holding. Jaskier took a swig straight from the bottle, choking a little in surprise. After the roughness of the various homebrews and the wines that had been aging in the cellar for possible decades it was sweeter than he expected. Definitely Southern.

"Just thinking. You?"

The Cat let out a dramatic sigh, leaning against Jaskier, "Lambert's ignoring me and it's making me sad."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure he's not."

"Oh?" Aiden cocked an eyebrow before taking a deep inhale, "Hey, Lambert!" He called over to where Lambert was deep in conversation with his brothers (and had been all night). "I'm not wearing any underthings and I fingered myself stupid while thinking of you earlier!"

"Yeah, that's fine Kitten." Lambert answered with a dismissive wave of his hand without even looking over as if Aiden had just told him that he was going to go grab more booze.

Aiden smirked at Jaskier as if to say 'see?', "And from the look on your face you know exactly what I'm talking about, no?"

Now it was Jaskier's turn to fill his lungs, "Oh Geralt!" He singsonged, "I just spilled sweet dessert wine all over my naked body. Want to help me get cleaned up? I'm so sticky and messy!"

Geralt gave one of his classic, non-committal grunts in response.

"Oh, sweet Gods." Jaskier took another angry mouthful before thrusting the bottle into Aiden's chest, ignoring the Witchers chuckle, "I understand he wants to spend time with his brothers but we haven't had any alone time for two weeks! He's either involved in some group activity or we're both too tired after training or chores."

"Hmm."'Aiden hummed in agreement, taking a deep swallow of the wine, "As much as I like Geralt and Eskel and how close they all are, there's certain activities I don't want them involved in." His expression turned devilish, "Want to do something about it?"

"...I'm listening."

Aiden crooked his finger in a beckoning gesture, prompting Jaskier to lean in closer so he could whisper in his ear as if the other Witchers in the room were actually paying attention to them.

"Fucking Hell!"

When he'd decided to call it a night and join Aiden in bed, the last thing Lambert had been expecting was to stumble on his Cat and Geralt's bard locked in a heated kiss at the top of the stairs, Jaskier's hands leisurely roaming over Aiden's back, whimpering when the Witcher moved his attentions from the bard's mouth to his throat. It was only when Geralt's telltale growl reached his ears he lifted his head, languidly turning to look at the two unsuspecting voyuers. Both Wolves looked an entertaining combination of aroused and annoyed. Mostly aroused.

Aiden purred internally. Perfect.

"Well, this is what happens when you forget about us." He said with an exaggerated pout, which Jaskier matched as he wrapped his arms around Aiden's neck, attempting to give Geralt his most pathetic look.

"I've never felt so neglected in my life." He whined, something Geralt knew definitely wasn't true but he decided to play along once he realised neither Jaskier or Aiden smelt even vaguely of arousal, despite their previous position.

"Oh, don't worry Lark." He growled as he stalked forwards, Aiden having the forethought to hurriedly disentangle himself, "I'm about to make sure you're very well taken care of."

Jaskier gave a yelp of surprise which turned into a laugh as Geralt threw him over his shoulder before stalking away towards his room. Jaskier grinned widely as he threw a salute to Aiden before they disappeared around the corner.

Before he realised what was happening, he found himself in Jaskier's previous position. Boxed in against the stone wall with Lambert's chest pressed against his, "That was your idea, wasn't it?"

It wasn't really a question and it was pointless to try and lie, "Yes." Aiden said, meeting Lambert's gaze, gasping in surprise when the Wolf ducked his head and started nuzzling at his neck.

"And you honestly feel the same?"

"...Yes."

Lambert let out a rumble, the meaning of which Aiden couldn't quite discern as he nipped at Aiden's pulse.

"So." Aiden prompted, squirming a little, "You going to make it up to me, or punish me?"

"Depends. How serious were you being about the no underthings?"

[annmarcus63]

Coën tells Vesemir that he saw something remotely large flying over the old stronghold to the west. Everyone but Geralt is thrilled. Apparently, they've been waiting for an opportunity like this, a chance to take Ciri with them to fight her very first beast as a witcher trainee. 

Lambert, Cöen, Geralt, Ciri and Yen are getting ready to take off the very next morning when Geralt asks Jaskier if he wants to come too. Jaskier tries to hide his surprise under a nonchalant facade, but he can't fool the witcher. The bard accepts the offer not a second later. It seems that his strategy is working after all, Geralt never asked if he wanted to come on a hunt before. It seems, Jaskier thinks with a lump on his throat, that he was in fact the problem after all. 

It's a short walk to the stronghold. Ciri observes the witchers track the beast, she's a fast learner. Jaskier watches too from an unobtrusive safe distance. Until all goes to hell. A royal archgriffin followed by its mate lands on the field taking everyone by surprise. Someone starts shouting orders, one archgriffin traps Lambert under its claws. It's a complete chaos. Suddenly the earth starts shaking, a roar swipes the air, Jaskier's blood goes cold when he sees a big ugly horned creature bolting from the trees. A chort. The new arrival takes everyone by surprise. Ciri ends up cornered by the chort, she has nowhere to go. Geralt is too far away; Yennefer is helping Lambert and Cöen; Ciri has lost her sword and the beast is about to bolt towards her. He acts without thinking. Nothing can't happen to her, he won't let it, even if it feels like he's running to his death. Geralt won't care, but he will if it's Ciri, he'd blame himself. It'd be Renfri all over again.  He won't let it happen. Jaskier shouts with all his might while grabbing Ciri's sword from the grass where she dropped it. He grabs the sword with both hands and plunges it into the beast's rear. Not used to handling swords, his hands slip through the blade, he feels the skin of his palms opening, like butter under a hot knife, followed by a river of blood. Someone it's shouting his name; he thinks it may be Ciri. The chort roars annoyed and turns to the bleeding bard. 

It happens in an instant. He is thrown through the air; a flash of pain explodes in his chest and grows to a cruel entity. He wishes for death.

 

-

He wakes up with a gasp followed by a groan of pain. It seems he's back at Kaer Morhen.

Not dead, then, he thinks with a hint of remorse. 

Triss is there in an instant. The witchers summoned her to help heal him, apparently, he was (is) in a very horrifying shape. He asks her for Ciri and the others, she says everyone is well, just a few bumps and bruises. Jaskier feels relieved.

"You were dead for a couple of minutes" Jaskier doesn't know what to say so he settles for thanking her for saving him. He has two broken ribs and a few more cracked, breathing is an utterly painful experience, but Triss' concoctions help a little. His hands are bandaged, Triss says they need a lot more healing, but she reassures him that he'll be able to play again. In time, at least. 

"I've never seen Geralt like that" she says suddenly "He- he said he couldn't feel you." Jaskier doesn't reply, he's rather immersed in the movement of her hands changing his chest bandages. 

"I didn't know you two were..." 

"No one knows." Says Jaskier feeling tired, body and soul. 

As if sensing the sadness in Jaskier's heart, Triss adds “He was scared.” 

"He would be fine."

"You're his soulmate, Jaskier. I don't think that he’d be fine.” 

"I have never been his soulmate." The bard flinches at his own bitterness. "I've only been a friend. A traveling companion." He corrects. 

“Jaskier…”

"He was never meant for me. Destiny must have got it all wrong, the mark on Geralt's arm should be Yennefer's not mine." He doesn't know why he's saying that to her. Maybe it’s the shock or it’s the pain, but he wants to tell someone, anyone, about another kind of pain he's been carrying all these years. He is crying, Triss hands him a tissue and smiles in a reassuring way.

Jaskier cries silently with intervals of gasps of pain, while Triss finishes his bandages and hands him a cup of fresh water. Jaskier thanks her in a quiet whisper. 

"I couldn't make him happy anyway" he wipes the tears from his eyes and finds that his hands are shaking "She does. She really does." 

"I never take you for the self-sacrificing type" says Triss holding one of his hands and squeezing. He wants to hug her, but refrains from doing so due to her broken ribs.

"I'm not" he clarifies "I'm just realistic. How could Geralt want someone like me when he has her?" 

After a few seconds of silence she says "You are enough, Jaskier." 

He wants to laugh, to disagree but refrains from it. He's only a bard, after all.

There's a knock at the door. They turn at the same time. It's Geralt, he's holding a bowl of stew in one hand and a single yellow flower on the other, and looking at Jaskier with an expression the bard can't quite decipher. 

Jaskier feels his cheeks blushing. Fucking idiot, he must have heard his pathetic monologue. 

"Can I talk to him?" He says to Triss. She stands and says "Of course." She leaves hurriedly, leaving the two staring at each other. Something heavy lies between them.

This is it, Jaskier thinks, this is where my heart will break for good.

Previous here

Next and final

As promised to dear @youknowwhoiam3490-blog (excited for your positive aggressive reading)

@mordoriscalling @dustbunnyprophet @chispy-rar-v2 @strangerzaiah

@help-help-i-need-an-adultlt

@janjan-the-ninth (not a 20 chapter fic but well…)

[cinebration]

Only Ours (Geralt of Rivia x Reader) [Request]

Geralt x fem!reader. Old friends find each other again after many years apart. Used to be lovers or almost lovers (up to you) that parted ways due to circumstances out of their control. They still care for each other a great deal and reminisce about their past together and what could've been. Can end up together or not. Not looking for angst per se, more just wistful, bittersweet tone. Thank you!—Requested by anon

Warnings: none

Gif Source: lamberts

In all the taverns in all the world, you walked into the one Geralt had been forced to take refuge in to give Roach a rest and to escape the rain. He noticed you first—not because he saw you, but because your familiar scent constricted his chest and made his nostrils flare. Glancing up from under his damp hood, he tracked your movements across the tavern as you went up to the barkeep and slapped coins onto the bar, calling out an order of thighs and a flagon of ale.

The barkeep happily obliged.

Balancing your plate in one hand and clutching your flagon in the other, you surveyed the dearth of available tables.

Geralt tensed as your attention moved closer and closer to him. The pain in his chest tightened, made it hard to breathe. He desperately wanted you to notice him, while at the same time he wanted to hide.

He remained frozen.

Your gaze passed over him, then shifted back, recognition dawning instantly. A faint, tentative smile pulled on your lips as you slowly made your way over.

You looked better than he remembered. He didn’t understand how—you were no sorceress—but the fact remained you did. He pushed off the hood as you reached the table and set down your dishes, your eyes never leaving his.

“Geralt,” you murmured, surprise and hesitation in your mellifluous voice.

He murmured your name back, the sound of it sacred on his lips. He hadn’t spoken it since you last parted years before.

“It’s wonderful to see you,” you continued, your voice still soft, as though afraid to spook him like a deer. “How long has it been?”

“Eight years, give or take.” The rasp of his words sounded worse than usual, perhaps worse.

“Closer to nine, I think.”

And Geralt knew you had been counting, just like he had.

Staring down into his tankard, he watched the foam shift as the liquid sloshed underneath it. The din of the tavern faded to the background, all his attention arrested by your presence. The smell of you, the close proximity, made his head spin.

“You look good,” you said.

He chuffed a laugh. “For a right bastard.”

Chuckling, you bit into the chicken thigh, chewed as you scrutinized his face. He wondered what you saw there, anxiety sparking beneath his skin the longer you looked. Would you see the Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf? Or would you only see him, as you always had before?

“I hear stories of hard times for you.”

A chill slithered down his spine. “Still a mind reader, I see.”

“Your eyes don’t lie, Witcher.”

Grunting, he shrugged and covered his expression with a long swallow of his ale.

“Well, there’re stories of hard times for me, too,” you added when he set his tankard down. The momentary flicker of a haunted look in your eyes made his fist clench tighter around the tankard. “But I’ve no interest in recounting those and ruining the evening.”

“I’m told talking helps,” he noted dryly.

“Not here.” You gestured with your chin at the other patrons in the tavern. “Prying ears and all that.”

He nodded. “What do we talk about, then?”

A sly smile pulled at your lips. “Did you ever find that griffin?”

Snorting, he shook his head. “Low-hanging fruit, mind reader.”

“What? No reunion is complete without mention of the griffin!”

“Give it a rest.”

“So I take it you did not find it.”

“No, I did.”

You waited for an elaboration. The faintest smirk touched his mouth. “You didn’t take it out, I know that. I would’ve heard, what with that bard immortalizing you and whatnot.”

He remained silent, enjoying the agitation building up in you.

“Pfft. If I had to guess, you found it and got new scars for your trouble with no head for a prize.”

The smirk faltered.

“I knew it!”

“Mind reader,” he groused, but his eyes were bright with amusement.

“See, should’ve had me by your side for that. Maybe I would have taken its head while you gave it new meat to chew on.”

“Hardly. You would be lucky to snatch a few feathers.”

Clicking your tongue in disagreement, you countered, “No way am I doing that again.”

“How disappointing. I rather enjoyed watching you prance around.”

You laughed. “I bet you did!”

Geralt offered another chuffed laugh, feeling himself filling with the warmth of your presence and the brightness of your smile. Neither had he ever forgotten, but his memory didn’t compare to the flesh-and-blood vision before him.

“I’ve missed you,” you said, reading his mind once again.

He didn’t know how to answer that, the tightness in his chest making it hard to breathe, let along speak. You nodded as though you knew his response, however, and offered him a smile that threatened to shatter him.

“I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

You glanced up from your plate, then shrugged. “We didn’t have a choice, Geralt.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not an acceptable one.”

“Acceptable varies by degrees.”

“I know,” you whispered, staring down at your food. Shaking your head, you looked back up at him, regret fading into a rueful smile. “But it didn’t kill us, the separation.”

“Something died.”

Silence weighed heavy in the space between you.

You sighed quietly. “Things are what they are. I’ve accepted that.”

He grunted, not trusting his words.

“Still, sometimes I think about…I never did work up the nerve, did I?”

“Your nerve was never in question.”

“I’m not blaming you. I could have taken the initiative as much as you.”

“Fine,” he conceded. “We both were too afraid.”

You nodded, the rueful smile returning. “Funny how much that fear pales in comparison to the things we’ve seen in the last few years.”

Grunting again, he lifted his tankard and met your gaze. Lifting yours, you clinked the metal cups softly, the ringing sound of their meeting subdued.

“I’m surprised the bard doesn’t know the story,” you said after swallowing a sip of the ale. “Our story, if that’s what we can call it.”

“I didn’t tell him.”

“Why not? It’s exactly the kind of thing bards would kill to sing about.”

“Because it’s ours,” Geralt growled. “Only ours.”