#me: this year we lost our dear witcher geralt of rivia

[absolutequeertrash]

i plan to ignore the witcher s4’s canonicity the same way i am ignoring teen wolf: the movie’s canonicity

[court-of-fairytales]

The female Witcher

Summary: Geralt and Ciri are back in Kaer Morhen for the winter. But what happens when Ciri finds out about the only female Witcher who used to be close to Geralt?

Warnings: Poisoning

Words: 1850

A/N: I am back to writing after a 5-year-long break. I hope you like it!

____________________________________________

„Geralt? Who is Y/N?“ Ciri asked when she got into the same room as the famous Witcher. Curiosity was written in the young girls face. “Where do you have that name from?” 

“Doesn´t matter, who is she?”

“No one of importance” Geralt grunts out and leaves the room as fast as he could, leaving a confused Ciri behind.

____________________________________________

Meanwhile Y/N lips left one curse after another one. Her grey hair was falling into her face as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes were scanning the surroundings searching for one of the monsters she lost moments ago.

Oh, did she wish that another Witcher would have accompanied her. Vesemir told her to take someone with her, but she refused. Y/N wanted to show them once again that she was as good as them. Even though everyone knew that Y/N was one of the best Witcher out there. Some whispers even dared to say that she was better than the great Geralt of Rivia.

Just as she turned around to search further for the monster, the creature sprang out of the woods. Even a skilled Witcher like Y/N was, wasn´t able to react that fast and so the monster was able to bight right into Y/Ns neck, poisoning her blood with its venom.

Y/N let out a scream of pain before she was able to pull up her silver sword and push it right through the creature’s heart. Only in the background Y/N could make out the dying scream of the monster. The venom already taking control over her body. She went unconscious even before the monster fell right beside her. But before everything went completely blank the young Witcher´s lips left one single word “Geralt…”

____________________________________________

Geralt stormed through Kaer Morhen searching for Eskel, Vesemir or any other Witcher who was currently in the old keep. Searching for answers why Ciri knows of Y/N.

He just turned around the corner the exact moment as Eskel, nearly running him over in the process.

Eskel chuckled about the broody behavior, knowing exactly what got Geralt into that mood.

“Why does Ciri know of her existence?”, he practically growled out.

Eskel smiled knowing exactly where Ciri had that name from. And as a good friend of Geralt he won´t keep that information from him.

“Oh, she was in the dining room with us. Lembert asked Vesemir when Y/N is coming back from her mission. Vesemir told him, that she should be back soon. Ciri immediately perked up when she heard a female name and started asking questions if she is a mage and stuff like that. We didn’t give her answers, obviously. So we told her to ask you about Y/N. She immediately stormed off and I bet on your behavior that she already asked”

Geralt sighs taking in the news off her coming back to Kaer Morhen. “She is coming back? I thought she would never step into this keep again…”

“Geralt, Y/N visits our keep regularly. It was just about time that you meet again. It´s time to talk with Ciri about her before she runs into Y/N herself.”

The grey haired Witcher looked out of the window, thinking about the words of his dear friend.

“You are right. Thanks, Eskel”

____________________________________________

That night right before Ciri went to bed, Geralt walked into her room.

“We need to talk”, he stated while walking to the chair besides Ciris bed.

“About what?” “Y/N”

Ciri immediately set up again in her bed, waiting for Geralt to start talking about the famous Y/N.

“Before I tell you the story about her, you must know that there is no way that we are trying it again with you. Y/N was one out of a lifetime.”

The girl only nodded, confused about what Geralt just said.

“Y/N is a female witcher just like me. Vesemir took her in, not knowing that she was a girl. Y/N was and still is one of the most intelligent people gracing this world. She knew that Vesemir wouldn´t take her in if he knew that she was a girl. So she cut her hair, wore boy clothes and talked in a deeper voice. No one suspected a thing. She did all the same quests as we did and most importantly, she survived the trial of the grasses. No other girl ever did, it´s also the trial where most of our people who wanted to transform died a painful death. Only after that trial Vesemir found out that the young boy was in fact a girl. He punished her, throwing her out of the keep in the middle of one of the deepest winters Kaer Morhan has ever seen. He thought that the girl died but when spring knocked on the keeps door, not only the warmth came back but also Y/N. Vesemir was too stunned to speak, he was sure that the girl wouldn´t survive the winter. They barely managed it and they were in a keep. Impressed with the young girl he took Y/N in again, knowing that the girl was way more powerful than he thought and therefor way more useful. He talked to some mages how it was possible that a girl survived the trial of grasses. But no one had an answer. After talking with every Witcher and Mage he knew, they all decided to let Y/N do the last two trials. The trial of the Dreams and the trial of the Mountains. She passed both with brilliance. So they did one more trial just like they did with me, and she passed again. Owning her the same grey hair as I have. Y/N grew up to be one of the best Witchers the world has ever seen, and it seems that she comes back to the place where everything started… Kaer Morhan”

Ciri couldn´t believe her ears. A female Witcher? An exceptional one on top? Why did she never hear of her and why did no one talk about her?

“Why weren´t the others answering my questions about her?” the girl asked confused.

“Y/N and I have some history together. We spent most of our years together. We used to travel together, tried to get jobs at the same place or even got together on the same job even though only one Witcher was needed. You could say we were inseparable. We shared more than only work if you know what I mean…”

Ciri of course understood. She needed a moment to take all those information in. She thought about what question to ask next, especially now that Geralt was in a talkative mood.

“What happened between you two? Why isn’t she with you anymore?”

Geralt groaned, he was waiting for this question.

“I fucked up, I…” but he didn´t get the chance to continue the story because Eskel was storming through the door.

“Geralt… it´s Y/N, she is here… but it doesn´t look good…”

Eskel didn´t even get the chance to catch his breath or step aside when Geralt jumped up and pushed his friend aside. Running towards the gate where Y/N just arrived moments ago.

Ciri and Eskel were following him hot on his heels.

When he arrived at the gate. Vesemir where already by her side. He took in her current state and how far the poisoning already went into her body. The old Witcher asked Geralt to help him bringing the woman to their laboratory, hoping that they would be able to save Y/N.

 ____________________________________________

Geralt put Y/N down as slow as he could. Looking her over and over again if her status has changed. He looked at the spot where the creature was able to bite you. Wincing when he saw the black poison in your blood veins.

Vesemir hurriedly searched for the anti-poison when he started talking. “I told her to take Eskel or someone else with her. That the job would be too dangerous. Especially after we knew that more than one creature was in the forest. But she refused… she said that she could take it, so I let her go…”

Geralt sighed, knowing how stubborn Y/N could be. He looked up to Vesemir, who finally found the little bottle with the liquid, which could save her life.

Geralt held down your shoulders when Vesemir took the antidote and pressed it on Y/Ns lips, trying to get her to drink it. After some struggles from both, Vesemir and Geralt, they finally got Y/N to drink it. Geralt relaxed immediately looking up to his mentor.

“She will survive, right?” To that Vesemir had no real answer, just time could show if Lembert was able to bring back Y/N right in time or if he was too late. It already was a miracle that Lembert was able to find her.

 ____________________________________________

Geralt wasn´t leaving Y/Ns side at all. Vesemir looked after the woman every day, giving her a dose of medicine, and praying that she would wake up soon. Every time before he leaves the room again, he looks back at the couple, giving Geralt a look of sympathy.

Right after his mentor left the room another knock on the door brought Geralt out of his thoughts. Ciri walked in with a tablet of food, putting it down on the table.

“Is she going to be okay?” Ciri whispered behind Geralt. After Lembert showed up with Y/N at the gate the other Witchers told her many stories about the woman. Especially Eskel had the best stories about his friends. And after every story Ciri heard she liked Y/N more and more, but no one wanted to tell her what happened between Geralt and Y/N a few years back. Getting the same answer every time she asked: “It´s not our story to tell…”

Geralt looked back to the young girl, he treated like his daughter. “We think so. Her body just needs time to recover from the poison. Lembert found her long after the fight. The poison was able to get deep into her body. It´s going to take some time still its all out again.” Ciri nods in understanding. Vesemir told her about the creaturs Y/N thought off that day.

She gives Geralt a comforting squeeze to his shoulder to show him that she is here for him before the young girl leaves the room again. Leaving the two Witchers alone.

  ____________________________________________

The full moon was shining through the window at the sleeping figure of Geralt of Rivia.

Exhaustion finally took over him, after being awake for nearly a week.

But his deserved rest was of short-term when a cough waked him in the middle of the night.

Geralt immediately set up straight and looked over to the bed where the coughing was coming from.

Y/N finally opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings when she landed on the grey haired-witcher.

“Geralt? Is that you?” Geralt sprang up and walked the distance to the bed, kneeling down beside it.

“It´s me, yes” Y/N let out a whimper, taking his hand in hers. “Never leave me alone again” Y/N whispers. “Never”, Geralt answered and gave Y/Ns hand a comforting squeeze.

Never.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Interviews - Henry Cavill x wife/actress reader

Summary: You and Henry have been married for a couple years now, and when you’re both part of the Witcher cast, fun interviews are to be had.

Warning: nothing but a good time, btw I’ve never written anything like this so I hope it’s good enough that I might feel motivated to write more

-Readers Witcher character is loosely based off my Geralt fic from here (just a little self promotion), but in this case you play a full vampire in this Witcher universe

The days have been long and grueling, filming hours upon hours of stunts and regular acting had taken its toll. Not to mention the countless times in hair and make up paired with costume changes and traveling to film on certain locations.

To say being apart of Netflix’s The Witcher was full of tiring days and some accidental bruises would be a huge understatement. But none of that mattered, nor did you bother to complain when through the thick and thin of it all did you have Henry with you along the way. And your favorite big slobbery bear, Kal whenever he was allowed on set.

Fortunately for you in the beginning of all the craziness, the casting and writers had wanted you specifically for the part of Y/C/N in the new series before Henry even auditioned for the role of Geralt, that was soon given to him after you accepted your fresh role of vampiric heroine.

It was ironically strange in a good way, you had watched your dork of a husband play the Witcher: Wild Hunt a few times before, eventually learning of what Geralt of Rivia was, who Y/C/N was in the story, who Yennefer and Ciri were, Tris and even Jaskier.

Who would have thought that you’d finally get to snag a role side by side with Henry in quite literally one of the most fantastic shows you’ve ever heard of. You didn’t even need to see the show yet to know how well it was most likely to be reviewed. Being a key character in the grand storyline was enough to convince you of how amazing it would most certainly turn out in the finished product.

And after all was said and done, you couldn’t believe how well loved and popular the show truly became in the following months after shooting and its eventual release onto Netflix. The after parties and cast celebrations truly made you blessedly grateful for pulling through to the vary end.

Then again you had your mans Henry by your side every step of the way. He was your rock and you were most definitely his. You know life on set would have been far less entertaining and dreadfully long if not for the lovely company of your dear Witcher, Henry. And so far after the fact, you and a good portion of the cast have been placed in random interviews for the majority of the day.

Reason being, The Witcher has at long last finally premiered and as per usual the people and media live for those cast interviews that always reveal some interesting events. So far this morning you’ve done some interviews with Anya that have gone perfectly fine since the two of you seem to click so well.

Also it helps ease the anxiety of your fellow newer cast mates to the world of continuous interviews with an experienced veteran actor like yourself, who’s gone round the ring more times then you can count. Though you can’t help but wonder how Henry’s doing, considering you’ve been separated since the sessions began at 10am, you’ve had lunch and now it’s about 1 in the afternoon with more hours to go.

Luckily for you, you’ve just been informed of another interview with the man of the hour himself. Saying your goodbyes and well wishes to your fellow cast mates, you stand and follow the guide into the advised place. Aka some really nice hotel room that’s been done up real nice for efficient interviewing, complete with the Witcher insignia on a large background poster and three chairs that happen to look rather comfy.

The camera and sound people nod in acknowledgment as you walk in, you nod back no doubt making their day with your friendliness and adorable smile that quite literally lights up a room. Soon you spot the bubbly yet nervous interviewee who instantly welcomes you into her space like you’re an old friend.

You sit, a bit confused as to where your partner happens to be at the moment, the interviewer, Lauren makes small talk before a door opens and her big bright doe eyes go wide in nervous excitement. A telling smile upon her face as she shifts in her chair before looking back to you again with a happy grin.

Henry says a quick hello to the behind the scenes crew before waving to Lauren, you smirk while watching him get comfortable next to you, “Well, well, well. Get lost on your way up, you know they have guides for a reason.” You tease as he chuckles at your humorous jab, relieved to see you again after a couple hours apart.

“Traffic.” He quips with a shrug.

“Uh huh.” You mutter with a shake of your head before drawing your attention back to Laura, “Can’t take him anywhere I swear, he does this all the time.”

She laughs as Henry pretends to gasp at your teasing, you chuckle along with them before she finally collects herself, “Well, welcome back to London. It’s fantastic to have you both in town once again, and your big beautiful faces all over Leicester Square.”

You both laugh, “Right.” Says Henry, “I guess we do look pretty cool.”

“Hell yeah, I mean where else can I see myself with a giant sword on a building? And anyways look at this beautiful mug,” You say gently squeezing Henry’s cheeks in your hand, “he’s literally killing it out there.” They laugh as you give Hen another playful squeeze before letting go and setting your arm against the chairs cushioned armrest. 

“Alight let’s start.” She says enthusiastically before glancing down at her cards then back up to you and Henry. Then into one of the two the cameras, “Hi I’m Lauren from Entertainment Weekly and today we’re here with the two stars of Netflix’s The Witcher.” She says enthusiastically while giving a nod to you two, indicating that the camera is now focused on you both, “Henry Cavill and Y/N Cavill.”

You both smile in acknowledgment as Henry gives a slight nod, “How you doing?”

“I’m great,” She beams, “So, I’ll get right into it, what do you like most about the story? What really drew you into the script that made you say, yes this is going to be awesome?”

Slapping a hand against Henry’s muscular leg, you hum, “I’ll let Hen take this one he’s a real expert on the linguistics of the whole show.”

“Thanks Y/N/N.” Replies Henry, bemused that you’re making him take the first question.

You nod to him knowingly with a smirk, “Of course.” Knowing how much he loves to talk about the show and also because you’d rather have him use his energy to talk about it then do that yourself. Priorities, right, though in your defense it’s been a long day.

“Well I absolutely love the games and the books themselves are phenomenal works of literature.” He explains, his face glowing with that usual glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “The story and the world of the Witcher is just so rich and full of potential that when I signed on for the show, I immediately knew it would be amazing, no doubt.”

You lean into the arm of you chair, “And of course I was there so that’s always a bonus.”

“That too.” He smiles adorably, “That too of course.”

Lauren smiles, “Great. So, what was it like working together, how was it having your characters interact with one another?”

You smile, setting a hand against Henry’s forearm, “This guy right here.” You deadpan before waving him off dramatically, “So annoying, my god he whined all the time and he was such a drama queen dear lord so ugh....” You start cackling before you can even finish the sentence causing Henry to loose it as well and with that the interviewer.

Shaking your head you rest your hand against his shoulder, “I joke, he was a gem to work with as usual...I mean I feel incredibly blessed to be able to act alongside my husband for months and months every single day. It’s a rarity in this line of work and I’m grateful to have shared this experience...and I guess more so this whole adventure with him as well.”

The interviewer aww’s as Henry tilts his head to lean into your hand that’s still resting atop his shoulder before pulling away just as quickly, the intimate sentiment not going unnoticed by you or Lauren who looks to be enjoying your loving yet calm energy with one another. “That’s so sweet, what about you Henry?”

“Oh yes absolutely,” Agrees Henry to your recent statement, “not only did I have her by my side through it all but the dynamic of our characters interacting together was so fun to shoot. I think the audience will really be able to see their relationship grow on screen into something strong and beautiful like in the books.”

Slow clapping you give him a curt nod of approval, “Well said.”

Lauren smirks, “Seems like it. Well, I was able to catch the premier yesterday and I gotta say...it was fantastic! I couldn’t believe how diffident the two of you looked from how you are now.” She gushes enthusiastically.

The corners of Henry’s lips curl into a proud smile for the fellow crew of the Witcher’s, “Oh that’s great then, honestly we gotta give all the props to the costume and makeup team, they’re so talented and know how to make us look like real badasses.” He adds.

You nod in agreement before grinning at a positive memory of your first interaction with Henry as Geralt, “Oh for sure, I remember during the early stages of production when our characters met each other for the first time, before this we came to set together but went separate ways to shoot our own stuff in the meantime so I never got a real look at him.” You recall with a bright smile as Henry watches your every move, beaming just the same.

“It was so funny, I was in the tent with Freya Allen, the wonderful girl who plays Ciri, and then suddenly her eyes got all big and nervous and I was like, that’s not me right? Something weird didn’t just happen with my costume? And then I turned around to find this man, wig on, face a mess, and his eyes looked so fearsome and different...it was a bit startling.” You say with a chuckle, “I clearly wasn’t expecting to see Geralt right then and there. He just looked so unlike Henry.”

“Yeah, I was almost hurt.” Laughs Henry, “She had to like squint and make sure it was me.”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug, “He had some real creepy looking colored contacts, yunno?”

Henry fake scoffs, “You’re one to talk, I mean when I first say her, Y/N’s eyes were red and she had fake blood spattered all over her face and shirt. Oh, and not to mention those fangs they put on your teeth...we probably traumatized poor Freya that day.”

“Oh shit you’re right!” You exclaim with a snort of concealed laughter, “God I completely forgot about how I looked...now since I think about it, I did that a lot too. I would just walk up to people and be completely oblivious as to what kind of nightmare I looked like, honestly I might have scared one of our producers a couple of times.” You add with a half nervous laugh, it’s true, you did scare some of the crew unintentionally. Most of the time.

Lauren lightly chuckles, “That sounds like you were quite the sight to see then.” She says before glancing back down at her notes, “Alright I have’ta ask, is there anything that you two took home with you from set?”

“Besides Henry every night,” He holds back a laugh while covering his mouth as you nonchalantly continue, “Uh, yes actually I got to take home Y/C/N’s wolf ring that I loved so much and just thought was the coolist thing ever and....uh, I might have stolen some socks too.”

“So that’s why after filming the amount of socks of yours I had to fold increased?” Wonders Henry with a surprised snort of realization.

Turning your head to give him a “no shit” kinda look, you look back at Lauren, pointing your thumb at Henry, “Master sleuth right here, but hey, he folds my laundry.”

“Aw that’s great.” Adds Lauren with a smile before turning her attention to Henry, “What about you Henry? Take anything from set?”

“More then Y/N did actually...”

“He just about took the whole makeup trailer most nights, I swear.”

Henry chuckles, “That. Is true.” He agrees with a nod, “Interesting enough, at home I’ve got Geralt’s armor hung up in our living room and a multitude of other nicknacks that I’ve collected during filming.” He adds, glancing over to you, “So uh, yeah, we were fairly lucky to be able to snag what we could.”

Lauren smiles, absentmindedly shuffling her cards, “That’s awesome to have such special memorabilia, you guys really are fortunate.” She adds before reading off from another card, “Alright you two, care to play a game called guess the image? Witcher style.”

Your face perks up at this, you’re a sucker for interview games and Henry knows it, “Are you reading my mind or something, I have been waiting all day for someone to ask about playing a game.” You gush rather enthusiastically. 

He smiles at your adorableness and how excited you’ve just become, Lauren grins, happy that her suggestion has been so well received, “Okay so how it works is, I’ll show you an image on my iPad and then you have to guess who or what I’m showing you.”

“Oh, cool I’ve heard of this,” You reply, turning to Henry with a smirk, “Loser has to clean Kal’s yard poop for a week.”

Rolling his gorgeous blue eyes he chuckles, “You’re on.”

“Alright, the stakes are high, you two ready?” Beams Lauren, holding her iPad to her chest as she awaits an answer.

“Yes, I’m ready to kick his ass.” You quip, leaning an arm against your chair while Henry does about the same, though he does his best to contain his laughter.

“Okay, first image.” She holds up the device to show some sort of weird golden thing, it’s shiny and hard, worst part is that you’re not entirely sure what the hell it could be.

Sensing your confusion Henry nudges your shoulder, though you ignore it before he smartly answers, “Oh, is that...Renfri’s brooch?” Little shit knows exactly what that is, of course he does.

Lauren claps, “Correct.” Zooming out of the image to show the full picture of the golden brooch, “Right on, that’s one point for Mr. Cavill.”

You scoff playfully, “Beginners luck.” While Henry side eyes you with a humorous grin upon his plush lips, he nudges your arm, “I’m going to really enjoy not cleaning up Kal’s grass turds for awhile.” He mutters lightheartedly, though you know deep down he’s being serious, no way is he going to win this, you think. You won’t have it, hopefully the next few pictures aren’t as difficult, Kal duty is not fun by any means.

“Shut up.” You grumble with a dismissive wave of your hand, though just teasing of course.

“Okay next image.” This time the blurred photo looks much more familiar, soon it clicks as to what the obscured blurriness actually is, yes!

“Got it! Anya’s er I guess Yennefer’s dress from the fight at Sodden.” Lauren giggles, zooming the image out to reveal Yennefer in her tasseled blue and purple dress from the battle at Sodden Hill. “I’m amazing I know.” You boast at Henry with a casual little bow in your seat.

“It’s the second question.” He deadpans, eyes crinkling in amusement as you shake your head at him.

“Pffff get outta here.” You mutter back, gently pushing his arm off of your chairs armrest and setting yours in its place while he gives you a fake shocked expression.

In turn you can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips, so instead of saying some sassy remark that would no doubt get a reaction out of him, you turn your attention back over to Lauren who’s looking over her notes again.

“Fantastic,” She says, glancing back up at you and Henry, “you’re both tied with one point each. Alright, anyone know what this is?” She asks showing something red and fuzzy, a bit of dirty skin showing from one corner but with The Witcher this bloody image could literally be anything.

The both of you squint, puzzled as to what this could be, “Y/N you got any ideas.” Wonders Henry, brows furrowed as his face contorts into deep concentrated thought.

Raising a brow, you hum, “If I knew I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Fair point.” He chuckles.

Lauren smiles, “Any guesses?”

 After a few concentrated moments, Henry shrugs in defeat,  “I’m stumped.” He admits as you study the image harder, mind racing to put the pieces together as to what the hell you’re looking at.

“No, I think I might know this....erm is it...me?” You wonder, voice raising in question, hoping to be correct about this or face the teasing of Henry.

Lauren quickly zooms out of the obscured image, “It is!” She says excitedly, revealing the picture of you from your characters debut in episode 2 where you save a girl from a werewolf, your mouth is covered in blood and so is most of your costumes chest area and left arm from the struggle. Not to mention the make-up teams fun 20 minutes of throwing fake sticky blood all over you to get the right look for the taxing scene.

You grimace a bit, “Oh god that was quite the day on set,” You recall with a half smile, “I was doing stunts all day covered in that red syrupy dye, I think it took a week to get out of my skin.”

Henry suddenly snorts with laughter, “Right! That reminds me, I thought Kal had gotten cut or something, it was just Y/N who had hugged him not realizing she still had some fake blood on her arm.”

“Jeez that’s right, I felt so bad, but I couldn’t stop laughing once we realized it was just me.”

Lauren grins, excited to hear some hidden information about little things that happens behind the scenes, “Oh wow that must have been a sight, alright Henry, Y/N��s taken the lead with a two to one score.” She says as you playfully nudge his strong shoulder. “Second to last image, what is this?”

Without missing a single beat Henry replies, “Jaskier.”

Squinting at the image you lean closer to the iPad, “How the hell do you see Jaskier?”

Smiling the interviewer zooms out to reveal the bards full outfit from the banquet scene, though he’s in the background of a fight between Geralt and some Cintran knights. “Right on!” She exclaims as you lean back into your seat dumbfounded, shoulder flush against Henry’s as he clutches your arm and squeezes it affectionately.

Ignoring his silent show of victory you shrug, “And they say he’s just another pretty face,” Earning a laugh from Lauren and some of the crew as you smirk at the camera, face them shifting to apologetic, “also I’m so sorry Joey you beautiful bastard apparently I’m blind. Uh, we don’t have to dwell on it, Lauren whatcha got?”

“You guys are both tied with two points each, last chance to win.” She replies before glancing down at her iPad, “Alright, what is this?” She asks, her iPad showing that of fuzzy bright colors, with a small corner smear of dull white that clearly wouldn’t make much sense to the untrained eye.

Smirking you glance at a puzzled Henry before sitting up in your seat, feeling rather good about yourself, “Would that happen to be, Hen in Stregobor’s illusion?” You answer with, though sounding a bit as a question considering you aren’t entirely confident as to what image this is.

Lauren’s brows raise in surprise, “Henry, looks like we have a winner. Y/N you are correct.” She beams, enlarging the image to reveal Geralt’s side profile as he talks to the old wizard while the background stays colorful and shrouded in various arrays of sunlight..

Shaking your fist victoriously in the air you give a couple enthusiastic whoop whoops while Henry simply takes it like a champ, “Have fun cleaning up Karl’s monster turds, cause this lucky lady doesn’t have to.” You boast as Henry and the crew laugh.

“Well that was something,” Beams Lauren, “I’m so glad to have chatted for a bit about your guys’ amazing new series, and maybe ended a relationship in the process.” She says jokingly as both you and Henry chuckle.

Patting his thigh affectionately, you smirk, “He’s a tough old bear, but yeah, it was awesome having you talk to us.”

“Yes, take care now.” Adds Henry while the interviewer Lauren stands, saying her goodbyes as she goes to exit the room.

The camera crew take a small break to adjust things and whatnot as you and Henry wait patiently for the next interviewer. He turns, an adorable smile pulling at his lips while you pretend to ignore his fiery gaze. “Well that went pretty well, minus the fact that I’m on Kal poop duty for a week...but uh...” He leans in close to you now, “I missed you all morning.”

Breaking out into a smile you raise a brow, “Boring without me huh?”

“Always.”

You casually shrug, “I figured as much. Don’t worry, we have a hotel all to ourselves tonight.” Your brows wiggle suggestively causing your blue eyed lover to shake his head with amusement.

“Say it louder next time.” He jokes.

Side eyeing the oblivious crew you begin to speak a couple octaves louder, “Henry I can’t wait to fu..” Suddenly his hand presses against your mouth before you’re able to call any attention to yourself. He gives you a warning look before slowly pulling his hand from your mouth.

You grin mischievously, “I wasn’t gonna say that...”

“Sure Y/N,” He mutters in your ear as a new interviewer walks into the room and finds their chair, “and I’m wasn’t going to make you scream tonight.”

Your brows raise in surprise and admittedly slight arousal at his choice of wording in this room of all places. Eyeing him up, face still showing surprise, you finally break out into a satisfied smirk. “You know what? I think you should consider changing your offer.”

He thinks deeply for a moment, though you know he’s only pretending to get you riled up, “Hrmm...maybe, possibly, should I? Should we? You are my co-star after all, that wouldn’t be very professional now would it Y/N?” He states with a shit eating grin, all done while the crew and interviewer get ready, minding their business and completely unaware to yourself and Henry’s teasing.

Scoffing playfully you lightly swat his arm, “We are way past being professional.”

He chuckles, looking from you to the rest of the room, “Oh, they have no idea.”

[thearvariblues]

So, About The Pockets...

The third and final part of my little “Jaskier is obsessed with pants” series. I’m sorry to say that this part doesn’t really focus on the pants or Jaskiers, uhm... unorthodox fashion research. But it’s there, I promise.

You should definitely read part 1 and part 2 before this one.

Tagging  @lottelorelei, @likecastle, @stinastar and @kalikatze, because you might want to read the last part, too. :D

*

“I’m feeling kind of nervous about meeting Jaskier this spring,” Geralt says to the man who’s walking with him through the streets of Oxenfurt.

“Finally grew some balls and decided to ask the bard to rearrange your insides?” his companion smirks. “I swear, Geralt, if you don’t offer your ass to him, I will have to sacrifice mine.”

“Lambert!” Geralt groans.

“What? Poor boy apparently didn’t fuck a Witcher last year.”

“Because I asked him not to. Well, not to fuck any Wolves, at least.”

“Jealous prick.”

“The worst thing is, he really didn’t! Or so it seems,” Geralt sighs.

“I can see the problem. He’s a fucking idiot.”

Geralt grunts.

“And what are you doing here, anyway? Sticking around just to annoy the shit out of me?”

“Meeting a friend,” Lambert smiles.

“A friend? You?” Geralt blinks, pausing. “Another?!”

“You make it sound like some sort of a miracle. I assure you, I’m fully capable of making friends.”

“Hm,” Geralt nods. “And this friend, he’s a… what? Another Witcher?”

“He’s a… bard.”

“A bard.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Lambert frowns.

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe a single word.”

“I don’t believe a single word,” Geralt smirks. “So what’s his name?”

“Aid… Fuck,” Lambert grunts.

“So, Aiden. Now tell me, Lambert, this wouldn’t happen to be the Aiden I helped you avenge last autumn, would it?”

“No. It’s a completely different Aiden.”

“Am I really supposed to believe that you found two friends, both named Aiden, and both willing to put up with your bullshit?”

“In my defense,” Lambert says, grumpily kicking a nearby stone, “I really thought he was dead when I asked you for help. Met him like… a week after you and I parted ways afterwards. Thought I finally managed to turn my brain into mush with all the drinking, but it turned out that Cats really do have nine lives. He lost an eye and tends to mess up his signs a lot, but nobody’s perfect, eh? And hey, turns out that Igni works against pretty much everything.”

“And you didn’t tell me for the whole winter because…”

“Because you’d probably kick me down from the balcony?”

“Damn right I would,” Geralt growls. “So where’s this Aiden of yours?”

“Don’t know. Somewhere here in the city.”

Geralt stops dead in his tracks, gaping at Lambert.

“Here? In Oxenfurt?!” he asks. “With Jaskier?!”

“Well, he needed a safe place to spend the winter, and you know Vesemir isn’t a fan of Cats,” Lambert shrugs. “Come on, it’s a big city. I’m sure they haven’t even met each other. The city’s still standing, after all.”

“You don’t understand. Jaskier–”

Geralt doesn’t even get to finish the sentence when he sees a young man leap from the window of a nearby building and land with a perfect roll that only comes with years and years of practice.

“Melitele’s tits,” he mutters under his breath while making sure his pants are properly fastened. “Nobody’s ever told you it’s impolite not to let a man finish?!”

“Hey, Geralt,” Lambert snorts. “Found your bard.”

Jaskier, hearing his words, turns his head and beams at the Witchers.

“Geralt! Lambert! So nice to see you! Would one of you mind Yrdening the fucking door for me?”

“I swear to Melitele, Jaskier, one day I am going to let you suffer the consequences of your actions,” Geralt smirks, stepping closer to the door and using the sign on them. “How was your winter?”

“Very amusing,” Jaskier smiles just as the doorknob rattles uselessly. “How about yours?”

“Drafty,” Lambert says. “Hey, you didn’t happen to see Aiden, did you?”

“Aiden?” Jaskier repeats, his eyes darting over to the door of a tavern on the other side of the road. “Well, that’s quite a funny story, actually…”

There is a loud crash from within the tavern, followed by a roared: “Cheating Witcher scum!”

The door open and a lean blond man with an eye patch over his right eye runs out, looking around frantically.

“Jaskier!” he yells when he spots the bard. “We need to go. Now!”

“Did you try to Axii your way out of cheating again, kitty?” Lambert smirks, takes a few steps forward and casts an Yrden on the door.

“Lambert!” Aiden yells and throws his arms around Lambert’s neck. “You’re here, puppy!”

“So what did you cast?” Lambert smirks, hugging him tightly.

“Aard. Not that bad.”

“It’s better than the Yrden last week,” Jaskier comments. “The guy really wasn’t happy about having to spend the night in his seat. And there was, of course, the tiny incident with Valdo Marx and Igni two days before that…”

“I’m sure they haven’t even met each other. The city’s still standing, after all. Well, what a fucking miracle,” Geralt snorts, turning to Lambert, only to realize that he is currently kissing Aiden passionately. “Oh, fuck. Jaskier?”

“Yes, dear?” Jaskier smiles.

“They’re not just friends, are they?”

“What gave you the clue?” the bard chuckles.

The shutters on a window of a house Jaskier was running away from crash open and an angry man starts to climb out, even though he can barely fit through.

“Uhm, I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news…” Geralt starts, but then Jaskier grabs his hand and he promptly shuts up.

“Yes,” the bard nods. “We’d better fucking run.”

*

Jaskier puffs out his chest and frowns at the fat man in front of him – the man who, as Geralt realizes, was the one climbing out of the window of the house where Geralt met Jaskier about an hour ago, right before their hurried escape to Jaskier’s rooms in the university buildings.

“Are you suggesting, my dear sir,” Jaskier says in his best offended noble voice, “that I, a respectable professor at this university, have, as you said yourself, canoodled with your wife?”

“I saw you. With my own eyes!” the man growls.

“Impossible. I spent my afternoon here, with my dear friend Geralt of Rivia. Is that true, Geralt?”

“Hm,” Geralt nods solemnly, trying not to spit out his wine.

“But this… friend of yours was there, too!” the man tries.

Jaskier gasps for breath and places a hand on his chest dramatically.

“Did you…” he whispers. “Did you just dispute the words of Geralt of Rivia, the mighty White Wolf himself? My dear sir, this man is a Witcher! The legendary savior! Slayer of bruxas…”

“Bruxae,” Geralt murmurs.

“… strigas…”

“Didn’t actually kill the striga.”

“… ghouls…”

“There’s really nothing exciting about those.”

“… and… and nekkers…”

“Every respectable Witcher wants to be known as a slayer of fucking nekkers.”

“And drowners!” Jaskier yells after the man who’s already turned on his heel and left.

“I see you’re running our of monsters again,” Geralt chuckles when Jaskier slams the door shut.

“Oh, shut up,” Jaskier mutters, sits into his armchair and grabs his goblet of wine. “Did I get rid of him or not?”

“You annoyed him into leaving, yes,” Geralt nods. “That, or he realized that Witchers tend to have two very big and sharp swords.”

“And I have three Witchers,” Jaskier smiles just as they both hear Lambert’s high-pitched scream from the next room.

“Sweet Melitele. How much longer is it going to take them?”

“Come on, Geralt. They didn’t see each other for the whole winter.”

“I didn’t see you for the whole winter, and you don’t hear me moaning your name like a cheap whore.”

“Yes, and isn’t that a shame?”

Geralt nearly chokes on his wine.

“What?” he wheezes.

“Nothing, dear,” Jaskier says quickly and gets back to his feet to refill their goblets.

“Hm…” Geralt hums, cocking his head. “Are those new pants?”

“They are. Thank you for noticing.”

“What happened to the tighter ones?”

“An accident,” Jaskier sighs. “I keep saying it, yours are only held together by some sort of dark magic!”

“They aren’t.”

“Fine, is it Quen, then? Are you constantly Quenning your fucking pants?”

“I am definitely not Quenning my pants, no.”

“Then explain how it’s possible that your mighty ass doesn’t rip them in half!”

“I don’t know. I suppose you will have to take a look at them yourself.”

“Geralt, I’ve been looking at your pants ten times a day ever since I met you, I don’t think one more look will change… What are you doing?”

Geralt downs the rest of his wine and stands up.

“I was thinking about a… closer look,” he murmurs. “I mean… for research purposes, of course.”

“Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier says, his eyes going wide. “Are you seriously suggesting… what I think you’re suggesting?”

“That there is one Wolf Witcher you haven’t fucked yet, yes.” For someone who’s just a little taller than Jaskier, Geralt is sure good at towering above the bard. “So if you wanted…”

“For research purposes, yes?” Jaskier asks as he wraps his arms around Geralt’s waist. “I should warn you, though. I’m afraid it’s gonna have to be a very thorough research. Probably gonna take at least a year.”

Geralt smirks and brings their lips so close together that they almost – but only almost – touch.

“Works for me,” he murmurs right before Jaskier kisses him.

*

“Did you know Cat Witchers have pockets on their pants?” Jaskier asks much later, when they’re lying side by side in his bed, naked and satisfied.

“Mhm,” Geralt hums because he was just about to fall asleep. “That’s nice.”

“I mean, not for me, they would absolutely ruin my silhouette, obviously,” Jaskier continues. “But for you, they might be quite handy, right?”

“Did you… Did you have to research with Aiden to find out?”

“Well, yes. You see, winter nights tend to get boring,” Jaskier grins. “But fret not, dear heart, you won’t have to spend the rest of your life protecting me from your angry brother. They have quite an open relationship.”

“Bold of you to assume that I would protect you,” Geralt sighs, burying his face in Jaskier’s chest.

“I know you will always protect me, dear,” Jaskier smiles and presses a kiss in Geralt’s hair. “So, about the pockets...”

“Tomorrow. I want to sleep.”

“But you promised I could take a look at your pants.”

“Mhm, I didn’t specify when, though. So shut up and let me sleep.”

“Geralt...” Jaskier whines.

“Jaskier,” Geralt chuckles.

“Ugh, fine. But I like you a lot less now, I hope you’re aware of that.”

“I’ll make it up to you. In the morning. I might even be willing to go with you to that tailor of yours.”

“Really?”

“Really. But first I have to ask Aiden about the… pockets thing…”

Geralt falls asleep, snoring slightly, even though he’s assured Jaskier a million times that Witchers absolutely do not snore.

“Knew you were gonna like that idea,” Jaskier smiles and closes his eyes. “Good night, my dear Wolf.”

“Hmmm…”

*

The next morning, Jaskier grins at the tiny tailor who’s studying Geralt’s pants with interest while the Witcher just stands there with his ass barely covered by his shirt.

“Truly an excellent bottom.”

“I can see that,” the man grins back.

“You are so,” Geralt snarls, “so paying for this, bard.”

“Oh, my dear,” Jaskier laughs. “With pleasure.”

[pillage-and-lute]

In All that I Have Done

Sad. I recommend listening to Arvo P ärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel while reading. Very, very sad, cannot stress this enough. Non-explicit major character death. (Happens of old age but still)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

More than forty years after the fall of Cintra one Professor Pankratz put down his pen. In the last ten years his hands had lost some of their surety, but his quill didn’t shake when he put it down. 

He ran one hand down his face. His beard had started going silver just after he’d adopted the style, but both it and his hair were now fully steel grey, with not even a hint of their former color. He adjusted his spectacles, tweaked the fashionable, but less than flamboyant hem of his doublet, and began to read what he’d written.

The last will and testament of Professor Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. 

I am writing this, sure and sound of mind, if not of body, in the event of my death. For many years I had a living, de facto will, that is, who ever found me dead by the roadside could loot my body for what they wished. As I got older and my body forced my errant heart to settle down I realized that this could no longer be the case. I fear I have put this off much too long, but happily, it seems I was not too late.

To my remaining family, my baby brother Alfons and his wife Iwona, I leave the rights to my songs and other works, and the royalties to them. Have fun. Alfons, Iwona is a beautiful woman and I would have wooed her, but that you were so in love I couldn’t bring myself to steal her away. I write this with a chuckle, Iwona my dear, because if you’ll remember we met first, and I introduced you to my brother only after you’d hit me in the head with a frying pan for flirting. 

I have also set up a trust, a portion of the royalties will be funneled into it for your son, Mikolaj, although he is a strapping young man who may never need it because he is a fine craftsman, as these spectacles he made me can attest. With luck he may spend it on marriage, should he ever woo that baker lad who made those charming blackberry tarts.

To the grandson of my friend Priscilla, Gaj. You have just been born and are a wonder beyond belief. Your parents are lovely people and you are lucky to have them. They should feel lucky to read this since I fear I shall be long dead before you learn your letters. However; there are times I wish I had fathered children. There are also times I remember what those who do go through and am thankful I did not, but you are a miracle. In the hope that you are given the very best of education, I have put in a word with the university. Should you choose, you will have the best schooling the Continent can offer, free of charge, with the compliments of Oxenfurt. Just, when you are someday a raging young student, sloppy drunk on a night out, think of me, if you can think at all. 

As I have of late stayed in quarters provided for me by the university and their gracious staff, I shall relinquish it all in return, as well as whatever items are held within not listed here. There shall be money in the vase by the fireplace for my funeral, as well as a generous tip for the maids, who have been wonderful and kind to an often forgetful and frail old man who is too much in his feelings.

My wardrobe I leave to whoever wants it, apart from my best blue doublet. (The sky blue one, which brings out my eyes) I should hope to be buried in it.

And finally, to my dearest and truest friend, Geralt of Rivia I leave a note, a song, and a gift.

Jaskier once again scrubbed his hand over his face. His study held a chill, despite the fine summer day, or perhaps it was just him. He got cold so easily these days. His breath rattled a little as he took a deep breath and hauled himself out of his comfortable chair. Melitele’s great gorgeous thighs, but his knees ached today. Jaskier paused at the mirror to tease his hair into place, advancing years never having divested him of his style. He flashed a wink into the mirror and shoveled a little coal into the small fireplace. 

He settled again at his desk, a different paper in hand, separate from the will, and began to look it over. This letter held none of the fine penmanship of the other, instead the letters were blocky and easy to read, better for the eyes that may have gained much in a mutation but skipped lightly over letters and switched them about.

My dear Geralt, it read. In all that I have done, I have had but one masterpiece. Critics may disagree on my greatest work, but I know it exactly, and have since the day of it’s birth. My opus was not Toss a Coin, or even the rehabilitation of yours- and all witchers- reputations. My masterpiece was my relationship with you, a wonderful and awful secret masterpiece of the heart, mind, and soul.

I know you do not dally about with words, but lest you misunderstand this last, most important of missives, we must discuss them. The word awful is now so said as to mean the same as terrible, but this cannot be true at all. Terrible is that which inspires terror or creates fear. Awful, or aweful, if you will, is to inspire awe. To be full of it. Sometimes that awe is fearful, sometimes reverential, perhaps a condemnation and sometimes a blessing. You, my friend, inspire awe. And in me you inspired something much greater than that. In all my years, which are so few compared to yours, nothing has so inspired love in me, as you. It has been my life’s greatest blessing.

When this letter comes to you, regardless of how it comes, it means I am gone from this world. I fear it shall indeed be soon, but I do not fear death. Weep not for me, my friend, instead let me bury in this parchment what there is left for me to say.

More than forty years ago I asked you to come away with me. All these decades later I still dream that you would, yet, I understand why you did not, and why you pushed me away. I offered you my heart that day, but it was the heart of a being you would watch wither away, as I’ll admit I have done. You could not be my forever, knowing that I cannot also be yours. There is no apology, no tears, no explanation needed there. 

Indeed, even for casting me away I need no words, and you have always had few to give, my friend. You didn’t keep me away for long, after all. I am like a magnet, drawn to you. Even now I feel your pull, like the tide to the gentle lady moon, but I cannot follow. 

After the mountain we met up again and again, our lives orbiting eachvother like planets, but we never clung so close as those first twenty years. That is the fault of Dame Time, a tricky mistress, as she collected her dues for twenty years of hard travel and ill care on my body.

I wish I could have given you more of my years. I find I am angry, and yet not so. At once, I could have had more time beside you, had somehow things been otherwise, but I know I had more time with you than might have been, perhaps more than I could reasonably expect. Someone, some goddess, or Life, Time, Destiny, or Fate, gave me enough time to finish the masterpiece that is my love for you, and that is enough.

You read here the ramblings of an old man, but I shall burden you with a few more sentences. 

You may recognize the case to which this letter is attached. Inside is my lute, as given to me by Filavandrel. I wish you to have it. I know you have never been musically inclined, but to me this instrument means so much more than music. This is the physical being of us, and all that may entail. I hope that you keep it, and treasure it how you will. If ever there comes such a person that you wish to play it, for whatever reason, gift it to them, but I beg you, tell them to whom it belonged, and how it came to belong to you. 

And finally, I leave you with a few unsung verses that I feel someone ought to read.

To the edge of the world May this letter be born That it comfort and heals you Although it brings you to mourn

I wrote every song And traveled along For my faith in a witcher and my friend before all

I hope you be blessed and continue your quest To be a friend of humanity As I go to rest

That's our epic tale My champion prevailed Defeated every villain And continues the tale

Toss a coin to my witcher, O valley of plenty...

love, Jaskier.

Professor Pankratz carefully rolled up the parchment and slipped inside a waterproofed tube, tying it with a blue ribbon that would likely only be lost in the parcel’s travels. He did it anyway, then he trailed his fingers over the finest instrument he’d ever played. Hand tremors meant it had sat silent for many months, but he plucked a few, slightly out of tune strings in a familiar tune. Then he put Filavandrel’s lute away, slipping the note in it’s packaging into the outer pocket of the case.

There was a funny feeling, he felt as he sat back in his large desk chair, to completing your greatest work, but he knew at least one being would remember it forever. He took off his spectacles and leaned back in his chair, the fire in the grate convincing him to doze. His eyes slid shut, and Jaskier greeted eternity with open arms.

[jaskierswolf]

This was based on an idea by @amadcat570 which I have totally deleted. Basically, Ice-skating, monsters, hurt comfort, love-confessions. Around 1.6k. Geraskier feat Ciri.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, drowning, angst, injury, but no death.

On AO3.

____________________

Jaskier was having the best time. He’d finally been invited to the elusive witcher’ keep in the Blue Mountains. Ciri, Geralt’s child surprise, had done wonders for his friend. Geralt was actually starting to open up to him. He’d spent decades of slowly chipping away at Geralt’s walls and worming his way into the witcher’s life, and the young princess had managed it in a matter of days. If Jaskier had doubted Destiny before then he certainly wouldn’t any longer. It had also been Ciri’s influence on Geralt that had forced the two estranged friends to reunite. Ciri had been devastated to learn that Geralt was no longer travelling with the famous bard, Jaskier, and practically begged Geralt to go and find him.

Jaskier had been in the middle of teaching a class when the door had flung open to reveal a very soggy Geralt of Rivia, dripping mud all over the floor. Ciri’s head had popped out from behind Geralt. Her long ashen hair had been hidden under a hat but Jaskier had recognised the emerald green eyes of Pavetta immediately. Jaskier had dismissed his class and the three of them had spent the next few hours awkwardly catching up in the classroom. Geralt’s apology had seemed genuine enough and Ciri was an utter delight so Jaskier agreed to join his ex-former friend once more.

Geralt was warmer with Ciri around and by the gods was that doing funny things to his heart. Geralt’s cruel words on the mountain had shattered the spell the witcher held over him. His puppy love crush on his best friend and melted away after weeks of sobbing every night in his rooms at Oxenfurt. Time apart had helped him to see his time with Geralt in a new light. The rose-tinted glasses faded away and his ballads became grittier and less like a fairytale, but now being around Geralt again he could see why he had loved him so irrevocably and for so long. There was a vulnerability in the witcher that he desperately tried to hide, a yearning for acceptance and love but the fear of being known. The duality of it tickled Jaskier’s curiosity and he so desperately wanted to know more, even after all these years of following Geralt.

He wanted to know Geralt’s warmth. He wanted that daft fond smile and fucking hell he wanted to love him, even after everything.

“Jaskier!” Ciri flew towards him in a blur. She’d been training with the witchers and it showed. She’d already been a fierce young princess before the training had commenced but she’d taken to the witchers’ workouts like a duck to water. Jaskier tried to balance it out with lessons in art and poetry but the princess would rather have a sword in hand than his lute. “Jaskier, Geralt is taking me to the frozen lake to go ice-skating! You have to come!”

Jaskier laughed and set aside the book he’d been reading. He tried to stay inside the warmth of the keep but he was a travelling bard, and his natural wanderlust was starting to itch under his skin. He hadn’t been ice-skating since he was child at Lettenhove. It would be fun. Maybe he could even convince Geralt to join them on the ice, he could pretend it was a sort of date?

Nah. That would be pathetic. He was above that.

“Ice-skating you say?”

Ciri nodded with a mischievous grin dancing on her lips. “It’s taken days of nagging but I finally wore him down.”

“Well then, come on! Let’s get our coats and gloves. Sadly, we’re only human, young witcher girl. We need to wrap up warm.” ________________________

If Jaskier had thought Ciri was a blur before, it was nothing compared to her skating. She streaked across the ice like lightning. It was as if she were some kind of mythical ice spirit. Her turquoise cloak flew out behind her and her long blonde hair whipped around her face as sharp blades cut into the ice. Geralt was watching from the shore, squatting under a tree with the hilt of his steel sword resting under his chin. Jaskier was a little unsteady on his feet. The ice was slipperier than he remembered and he was out of practice.

“Come on, bard!” Ciri giggled as she skated circles around him. He hissed and stumbled, almost falling on his arse for the third time.

“Leave him alone, Ciri,” Geralt called from the shore.

Jaskier winked at the witcher as he steadied himself. “I knew you cared!”

Geralt just rolled his eyes and shook his head but Jaskier knew his friend was secretly smiling under all his grumbling.

Ciri began to show off, jumping high in the air and spinning like a tornado. It was incredible. The rhymes and melodies about the Ice Princess were already forming in his mind. His fingers flexed as he itched for a quill or his lute. He would need to go back to the shore with Geralt. He needed to write this down before the idea faded away.

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you bring my notebook in that bag of yours?”

Geralt sighed and pulled out Jaskier’s small leather-bound book where he scrawled most of his composing. Jaskier grinned and started to stumble back to solid ground when the ice cracked and he heard Ciri’s scream.

“Shit!” Geralt grabbed his silver sword and began running across the ice.

Jaskier spun round to see a kikimora crawling across the ice towards Ciri. It’s long spindly legs were scratching and sliding all over the ice. Ciri screamed again and Jaskier was thrown backwards. He landed hard against the ice and it cracked underneath him.

“Bollocks!” He tried to grip the ice but his gloves were soaked through and his legs fell into the icy water. “Geralt!”

“Jaskier!”

The ice was freezing and he couldn’t breathe. His fingers slipped on the ice and he fell underneath the surface. The water burned his lungs as he gasped. Fuck it was so cold. He could still hear Ciri’s screaming even through the water. He tried to swim upwards but there was a sudden pain in his head. The water around him turned red and he saw the dark black leg of the kikimora falling through the ice. He tried to call for Geralt as his vision began to spin. Water filled his lungs and he was so cold.

He was so cold…

Cold…

_________

He couldn’t be dead. Jaskier knew that much. Death could not hold so much pain. His head felt like he’d been drinking solidly for a week whilst being hit repeated in the temple with one of Geralt’s swords. His throat was burning and his chest felt tight. He gasped a shaky breath of air and winced as he opened his eyes.

“Jaskier?”

“G’ralt?”

“It’s me. I’m here.”

Jaskier blinked a couple of times. Even the dim torches of Kaer Morhen were painfully bright. He was wrapped up in what appeared to be every fur in the keep and…. was this Geralt’s bedroom?

He struggled to sit up and Geralt gently pushed him back down. “Oi,” he grumbled hoarsely.

“Rest, Jaskier.”

“How’s your bard?” Another voice asked. Jaskier couldn’t work out whether it was Lambert or Eskel. His head was ringing too loudly.

“Ciri?” Her screams, that was the last thing he remembered. They had been so loud. She must have been dying. “Where’s Ciri?”

“She’s fine. She’s with Yen now, but she didn’t get knocked out by a kikimora and almost drown, Jask. I… I thought I’d lost you. I should have been closer. I should have kept you safe.”

Jaskier was surprised by the pain in Geralt’s voice. This was the same man who had tossed him aside like a dirty rag, and now it seemed as if that was the last thing the witcher wanted. Jaskier was also suddenly aware that someone was holding his hand. He coughed as the burning in his throat tickled him and he squeezed Geralt’s hand.

“I’m alive,” he tried to reassure the witcher.

“Barely.”

Jaskier licked his lips and looked up at Geralt. His head ached behind his eyes and the room was still too bright but he needed to see Geralt. He need Geralt to see him.

“I’m alive because you saved me, and not just today, my dear. You have saved me in so many ways and so many times.”

Geralt growled and shook his head. “You were only ever in trouble because of me. You were hurt… because of me.”

Jaskier frowned and closed his eyes with a sigh. They were talking about the dragon hunt now. He could feel it in his bones. “You were trying to protect me.”

Geralt laughed bitterly. “I couldn’t even managed to do that right.”

Jaskier gripped Geralt’s hand tightly. “No, but I forgave you. It’s time you forgave yourself, my dear,” He coughed again as he felt sleep try to pull him back under. “Be here, when I wake up?”

Geralt hummed. “Yeah.”

“I love you,” Jaskier mumbled almost incoherently as the darkness took him once more.

He didn’t hear Geralt’s reply. He didn’t hear the words he’d been longing to hear since he was eighteen. Geralt knew this and he would repeat them again once Jaskier woke up, and again and again and again until the bard slowly began to believe him. For now, Geralt settled for placing a kiss on Jaskier’s brow. His heart was beating too fast in his chest for any witcher but he was a witcher in love and for once in his life he would allow himself to enjoy that feeling.

“I love you too, Jask.”

[lyubova17]

I posted 420 times in 2021

7 posts created (2%)

413 posts reblogged (98%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 59.0 posts.

I added 50 tags in 2021

#liespeaks - 15 posts

#lie is talking to air - 14 posts

#fanfiction - 4 posts

#the witcher - 4 posts

#geralt of rivia - 3 posts

#jaskier - 2 posts

#emhyr var emreis - 2 posts

#happy birthday to me - 2 posts

#geraskier - 2 posts

#emhyr/geralt - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 118 characters

#the villain (or antagonist i guess) types aren't really based on any specific villain so don't think about it too hard

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I Lost My Mind In Your Arms for the WIP ask please?

This one I have been writing and rewriting for over a year and I still can’t get it right. It’s an ABO for SuperBat featuring Omega Clark and Alpha Bruce

2 notes • Posted 2021-10-10 07:30:58 GMT

#4

Wake me up when September ends

Not trying to be sarcastic, I need to vent and I don’t know where to go for this. Basically, I got three huge loans. I get relief and will pay 75% of them off by November. But it’s getting to November. The reason I got these was because my mother in law was in the hospital, my husband’s rich ass family didn’t want to cover the bills so my husband had to on top of his bills and our groceries. My MIL and family drama later we are finally at a place where we have our heads slightly above water, I feel better and am doing better. But we are in the final stretch before November, I’m not worried about October, I’m going to cancel my subscriptions until after the first week of November. What I’m worried about is this month, even though, I have a lot of help from friends and my husband, with the main bills I have, I will still be short to pay the last bill by $3 dollars. I’m working so hard to have faith that I will find a way to get those three dollars. So I can make that payment. I’m just scared (very scared) that I won’t get those three dollars on time. My family is not able to help because they have their own things to do this month. I’m really hoping that I can get this figured out. My husband is stepping it up and paying more bills, mostly because he is in a position to do so. I’m also working and I’m hoping I make some extra tips to have those three dollars. If I get the three dollars and everything works out, I will be so great and in the clear to help my husband with some of his other bills he’s trying to pay off. I want to get rid of my debts and finally be free so I can enjoy time with my husband. I know I will figure it out, I’m not asking for help, I just needed to vent. If you are able to help and want to, that would be super but not the reason I made this post.

4 notes • Posted 2021-09-12 04:46:24 GMT

#3

Lielie I just thinking about it today, about the title of your fic, “Dear Geralt count me in”. May you enlighten me a little about the part “count me in”, I’m just curious 🥺

The title is based on another title of a song that gave me inspiration for this fic. It’s called Dear Maria Count Me In by All Time Low. The story behind the song was the singer found out his dear friend was a stripper and asked her if he could write a song about it.

For me, song pertains to when Emhyr wants to see more of the real Geralt. It’s also about how Emhyr told his PR team if they could write how they met and how they fell in love.

5 notes • Posted 2021-12-06 13:57:30 GMT

#2

My first picrew to my recent one. After leaving the cult I can see how much it affected how I viewed myself. Seeing a physical representation of that though this is mind blowing. I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about this.

5 notes • Posted 2021-08-27 05:20:29 GMT

#1

I got tagged by two of epic people @curls-cat and @devendrasbeard

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it. And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Well I’m ready if you all are

Password: Magic Mirror

But I’m Only Human

I Lost My Mind In Your Arms

Ever After

Lock and Key

You Keep Passing Me By

In My Head

Dear…

I tag these eight wonderful people: @morte-mistrata, @geogrewife, @averypottermarcholasmoth, @wolfgeralt, @helly-watermelonsmellinfellon, @dionysusbisexual, and @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher

19 notes • Posted 2021-10-10 01:46:44 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →.

[measurelessdreamer]

Start And Never Stop II geralt x jaskier

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620474

For my dear friend and sister I chose @darknessyuu who is always there for me and keeps me sane <333333 

Summary:  Sometimes there are days when you bind yourself to someone else by Destiny even if you never believed in it. Sometimes there are days when you shout and push away that one person who deserves it the least. And sometimes there are days when you piss off a particularly skilled fae and end up being thrown into the future. Geralt of Rivia has indeed seen it all and fewer things could still surprise him. That is until he wakes up in Beauclair of all places in a bed that strangely feels like his, with a vineyard everyone keeps acting like is his and wedding preparations that Jaskier insists he gives his opinion on for reasons that make Geralt's head hurt and heart shatter at the implications of this whole mess. It shouldn't be like this and no matter how hard he tries he can't figure out why, after everything, it still is.

Additional tags: Time Travel, Post-Episode:S01E06 Rare Species, Fix-it, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Corvo Bianco

Based on this amazing superbat fic

Geralt woke up with a start, head pounding hard. This was definitely the last time he'd taken up a contract that the people refused to give him enough clues on to actually determine what he was facing. Just his damn luck that it had to be a fae, kidnapping people, out of all possible threats he'd learned to recognize. Even better, it was a fae powerful enough to send him only gods knew where before he could reach for any of his swords although he was fully aware that would do nothing to help.

But he supposed he should count himself lucky. He was still alive and still him after all.

His eyes flew over his surroundings. Walls decorated with paintings and trophies, a bed that was undoubtedly the most comfortable thing he'd ever slept on, all of it was pointing toward the bizarre scenario that whoever owned this place had far more money than to just get by. He definitely was no longer in the village where he'd gotten that contract, then. Judging by the sun shining brightly through the windows, he wasn't even in fucking Temeria.

And yet... somehow it didn't exactly seem like he was out of place. It was hard to explain, but after so many decades venturing the Path, never really staying in one place for long, he knew what it was like to feel like a foreigner like he didn't belong. Over the years, he'd learned to mute it, to fully ignore it because it was just everywhere he went. But it wasn't here. He had no idea where he was but still felt like he should know because the place meant something to him. It wasn't exactly home per se, but it came incredibly close to resembling one. Just like Kaer Morhen always would but different.

He let out a huge exhale. It seemed like the fae didn't just teleport him away, she also must have done something to his head.

A gentle knock on the door startled him and made him sit up. Huh. That was odd. Most people would usually opt to pound hard or never bother to do anything else besides barging their way in. This knocking was resolutely different from everything he’d known, though.

"Yes?" he let out on instinct anyway. He didn't know what exactly he'd expected, but a man dressed in colors so bright that would put even some of Jaskier's clothes to shame and with a look that was anything but spiteful and threatening to kick him out at this instant, was definitely not it.

"Are you alright, Sir? I know how you value your privacy, but I was just passing by and I couldn't help overhearing the noise. You were shouting in your sleep, I’m afraid," the man said with an accent Geralt would recognize anywhere. Toussaint? Was that where the vile fae had sent him? Possible, but that still didn't explain the weird vibe he got from the place and why this man he'd never met before was looking at him as if Geralt's presence didn't bother him at all.

"I'm fine," he retorted when he realized he was still supposed to give the man an answer and cursed under his breath, hoping he wouldn't have to address him by name anytime soon lest he wanted to make a total fool of himself. Had he lost some memories along the way? Was that why he couldn't remember what his surroundings meant to him? Or was this merely a dream?

"Did I-" he cleared his throat, trying to sort out the mess his mind was, but the man didn't look put off or annoyed, just attentive and with patience Geralt thought he'd never get to see on anyone's face again after becoming a witcher. It was baffling. "Did I hurt my head recently?"

The man frowned in thought. "Not to my knowledge, Sir. It's been a while since your last injury, but it was of mild nature and had absolutely nothing to do with your head. But you did express you were feeling particularly tired today and decided to rest for a bit, which is how we got here."

"Hm," Geralt said, suppressing a curse. He definitely didn't have any recollection of that or even the slightest bit of idea how much time must have passed ever since he'd met the fae. Months? Years? How much had he actually missed of his life?

"I think I need some air," he pretty much rasped, feeling weaker than ever when he realized that for all he knew Ciri could have grown up or even died already and he didn't remember. Had he and Jaskier ever managed to patch things up? Is he dead now too? They couldn't be, Geralt reasoned, but time was rarely merciful on witchers. Much less when a fae was involved.

"Of course, Sir, I shan't keep you," the man said and stepped away to let Geralt pass. When Geralt did so gingerly as if outside the room awaited him nothing but a lurking monster, of course, the man noticed right away. "Are you sure you're alright, Sir? Shall I call for Master Jaskier?"

And Geralt froze and let out a gasp as the words dawned on him, partly in relief because Jaskier was alive and he was here, and partly in frustration because while it answered a few questions, it did cause another load of them to pop up in his pounding head. But never mind that when he didn't have to contemplate on missing the last moments of Jaskier's life, on missing earning the forgiveness he in no way deserved but yearned for regardless. Jaskier was here, alive and well. Judging by the house the bard apparently owned, he was more than well. And while the thought of seeing him again terrified Geralt more than anything, he found himself incapable of saying no.

The man, it turned out, didn't actually have to do anything because just at that moment they both heard footsteps and Geralt was met with a pair of cornflower blue eyes that were cheerful and full of hope and never failed to see right through him.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Jaskier beamed before going very serious in an instant. "We're in a very dire situation, Geralt. Lives depend on it and I need your honest opinion." The bard came up to him and held out two small rolls of blue cloth that looked identical to Geralt and asked: "Which do you think is better suited for the wedding?"

If Geralt had been of a weaker nature, he might have collapsed right then and there. But sometimes being a witcher did have its merit. At least in some areas anyway. "Aren't they the same?"

Jaskier gasped and pressed one of the rolls against his chest in indignation in such a him way that Geralt couldn't help but smile. "How dare you, witcher? All this talk about your superior senses and then you say these two completely different shades of blue are the same? Can you even see anything?" The tone in his voice was teasing and Geralt basked in hearing it again after months spent contemplating about the mountain and all he'd said, shouted, and wished so desperately he could take back. Jaskier's eyes now shone brightly with affection and happiness, nothing like the raw hurt he'd left in them when his own heart had been roaring under the weight of everything he'd regretted the most. Could it be that he'd managed to make it go away with time? Or was this merely a dream?

"You see what I have to put up with, Barnabas-Basil?" Jaskier asked the man but his smile was still playful as he rolled his eyes. "Maybe you could help us with this."

The man, Barnabas-Basil Geralt remarked for himself, offered a look of total understanding as if he too was wondering from which tree Geralt had managed to fall this time before he replied: "As much as it would please me to help, I'm afraid I might be running short on expertise when it comes to something as intimate and important as someone's wedding."

Jaskier accepted that without any hard feelings and thanked the man anyway before Barnabas-Basil excused himself to go tend to his duties. Jaskier looked deep in thought as his eyes roamed over the fabric in his hands before he gazed back at Geralt. "I know what you're going to say. Go ask Regis. He's already in charge of the wine and helped out in many different ways already, he surely has an answer to this too. And you might be right, but call me old-fashioned, I do actually agree with Barnabas-Basil on this. Other people are just running short on expertise. It's your wedding and your opinion I care about."

Geralt was absentmindedly wondering who the fuck Regis was, when all of a sudden he blurted out: "My wedding?!"

And Jaskier, honest to gods, actually laughed and beamed, completely oblivious that Geralt was quite possibly losing his mind. "I'm sorry, I know I keep saying this, but it's just less surreal telling it’s 'your' wedding. But you're right, it's not just yours. It's ours."

Geralt had only a split second of reminiscing how soft the last word sounded coming from Jaskier's mouth before the bard took a step right into his personal space and placed a chaste kiss on his lips as if it was the most trivial thing and not one of Geralt's deepest desires he'd never managed to believe would actually come true one day. But it happened and it was taking everything in him not to touch his lips as if that would make the sensation stay and engrave it in him for good. What had that damn fae done to him? What had she done to Jaskier? Brainwashed him into thinking that this was what he wanted when it couldn't possibly be further from it?

"Geralt," Jaskier said, frowning and reaching for Geralt's arm, "what's wrong?"

Geralt didn't flinch at the contact, but it was a very close thing and took away all the strength he got left to be able to look this man he'd hurt so much in the eye. "I- I just need some air."

He hurried out of the house, ignoring everyone he passed by even though they were smiling at him, calling him Master Witcher of all things as if the whole situation he was in couldn't get any more ludicrous and stopping only once he reached a tree on a hill overlooking the villa. He sat down, back leaning on the huge trunk and arms left dangling over his knees, and stared aimlessly ahead willing himself to wake up if this was a dream and to get ahold of himself if it wasn't. He'd never seen anything like this, never been fooled to this extent. Could it still be an illusion if his medallion wasn't even humming? On what ground was he supposed to reverse what the fae had done? Was there even a way to reverse it?

"Hey," he heard Jaskier's voice and forced his eyes to focus on the man sitting down on the grass before him and setting the two rolls of blue cloth aside before his eyes went back to Geralt. "This is going to sound weird and insane, but it's not like I made it up so I ask you to bear with me and take my word for it. Because if you don't, no one will. You said something similar to me a while back when we were at the same spot we're right now. But then again, you don't remember that... do you?"

"No," Geralt murmured so wistfully he almost winced.

Jaskier offered a sympathetic smile. "And what's the last thing you remember?"

"Running into a fae somewhere in northern Temeria."

"When was that?"

"In spring."

"And the year?"

"1264," Geralt replied and watched Jaskier gape at him as if he'd just grown a second head. "What?"

"It's the 12th of June. 1275. Your last memories are from eleven years ago."

This time, it was Geralt who openly gaped. Eleven years left out completely blank. Erased. Gone. How...

"Seems like you're one of the few who got to experience traveling through time," Jaskier finished and Geralt stopped breathing at once.

"That's-"

"Bizarre, I know. Believe me, I thought the same thing when you told me."

"I told you?" Geralt asked as if that was the most insane part about the whole thing.

"The future you did. Obviously not in many words because you avoid details like the plague, but you did explain the basics. I may not have known which year you got sucked out of, but I do know this is not permanent. You'll get back to your time before this day ends and it'll be like you never left."

Except he had left, gotten a glimpse of his own future, and discovered what it felt like to be kissed by Jaskier. All that being a result of those eleven years that would be waiting for him once he got back. And as much as it did put his mind at ease that his stay here wasn't permanent, it also reminded him how many things had gone wrong and how many more could still follow. There was no way this was set in stone. And he could ask so many questions, hope that at least half of them got answered, about Ciri, Yennefer, Eskel, Lambert, Vesemir, why they were in fucking Beauclair of all places, but then he looked at Jaskier and was once again reminded of how everything his actions on the mountain and before had left on Jaskier seemed like it wasn't even there anymore when he knew Jaskier remembered. Geralt had fucked up hard, had been given shit about it continuously by everyone who knew, but none of that had ever come close to actually seeing Jaskier walk away and all the remnants of the dangerous hope he'd been harboring despite knowing better crushing down on him once he'd come back from the mountaintop and found Roach alone with Jaskier and his things long gone.

But now they were here, eleven years later, Jaskier looking at him as if he had nowhere else to be even though Geralt wasn't the one Jaskier had forgiven and found it possible to fall in love with. Instead, he was the one who had sent the bard away. In the harshest way, there was.

Which was why when the next time his mouth opened, the only thing that came out was: "You're here."

"Of course, I'm here," Jaskier said and scowled before his eyes momentarily widened. "Wait. When was the last time you remember seeing me?"

"The mountain."

Jaskier blinked and his whole face turned red. "The mountain? For fuck's sake, Geralt, the last thing you remember of me is that and you still let me kiss you?"

"Not like I knew that was about to happen."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. Gods, I wish the future you would've given me some kind of heads-up so I would actually know how to deal with this. But the horse's arse said no. Leave it to me to make a total fool of myself by kissing the man who wants to have nothing to do with me."

"That's not true," Geralt emphasized. "It’s not how I feel."

"I know that now. It took some time, but... wait. You telling me about this whole mess means that you will remember what happens here, which... You absolute delinquent fool. I can't believe you made me wait for so long before you let me experience for myself what it was like to kiss you while you already knew! You're so lucky most of the wedding preparations are already sorted and paid for or we would be having a completely different conversation right now."

Geralt sighed. Lucky didn't even begin to cover it. All this talk about the future him, weddings, and kissing didn't sound like the world he'd gotten used to through all the hardships that had come with it. It sounded like one of those fairytales he'd stopped believing in the moment he'd realized he would never see his mother again. Where was he supposed to fit in all that?

"You don't believe..." Jaskier trailed off and waved with his hands around, "all of this is real. I know it's a lot to take in. Especially since... here you are, probably still in love with Yennefer, and looking right into your future and seeing... me instead."

"Yennefer has nothing to do with this," Geralt cut him off, not even surprised that most of what usually held him back from speaking his mind had no power here where there was no such thing as consequences since none of this had happened yet. Jaskier could read him perfectly regardless and if this was a way how to give him the truth he rightly deserved after so many rounds of lies littered with indifference, then Geralt was going to give it to him.

"You're saying... that you don't love her like that anymore?" When Geralt nodded, Jaskier let out a soft chuckle. "I guess that makes sense. Even after over three decades, you can still find ways to surprise me."

"The last time I saw you, I hurt you and forced you to leave. So none of this makes any sense to me."

"Knowing you it will take those eleven years for all of it to make sense. But it will take much less for me to forgive you."

Geralt swallowed and looked away. "How?"

"Since when am I someone who gives away the ending before its due time?"

"This isn't one of your tales you sing for money, Jaskier."

"You're right. It's so much more than that because it's our tale that my heart sings for me. It's the most special tale of all and it's worth to see it through to the very end, Geralt."

"I don't even know where to look for you," Geralt said, voice wavering. "Can't you-"

"Give you a hint?" Jaskier asked and sighed. "Believe me, it's taking everything within me not to tell you exactly where I am in your time so you could come and sweep me off my feet because, in spite of everything, that is what I still want you to do. But that's not how it works, Geralt. It works in ballads and tales because they're meant to give people hope, to make them see beyond reality. To imagine and dream. It's why I could never make them accurate the way you want me to. Because that would just defeat the purpose of them."

But Geralt didn't want accurate. Accurate meant realistic and realistic meant hurt. And he hated the irony more than anything. "And this is the tale you decided needed to be accurate?"

"In all its glory," Jaskier said and smiled. "Not all of it was perfect, but looking back at it now, I know it was right."

"What if I change something and prevent this future?"

"You won't."

"You can't know that."

"You're missing the point, witcher. Out of the two of us, I have the memories of how this happened. I'm the only one who knows that," Jaskier claimed and shifted so he was now sitting next to Geralt. "Give me your hand."

"Why?" Geralt asked but gave it anyway.

"So I can read your future to you and for once be able to say that I was right about everything," Jaskier scoffed as if that had been obvious right from the start before he grew serious again and locked their eyes, not wasting even a second to look at Geralt's hand and "read" from it and just holding it between his own. "You are going to find me. It will take a while, but you will. And when you do, just have patience with me and I promise I will have patience with you too."

"You shouldn't."

"And that's supposed to mean something because I'm the epitome of doing what others tell me to do?" Jaskier deadpanned but ended up giggling before swatting him. "Geralt! I'm telling you I am happy. With you. Why are you trying to ruin that?"

"Because I know you also hardly ever do what's good for you."

"True, but this is different. And I'll keep saying it until you believe me. Reaching this point won't be easy for you, but it's worth it. It really is. And you deserve it, Geralt. As for my forgiveness, you just have to start. And never stop."

Geralt didn't need any clarification on what exactly that entailed. In his own heart, he knew where he had done completely wrong by Jaskier, and even if despite all this Jaskier was telling him he wouldn't earn forgiveness in the end, it didn't mean he shouldn't try. Not because this was the future he wanted to have, but simply because he owed so much to the one person who had refused to leave him alone until he himself had given them no other choice. It could never be repaid, but starting and never stopping sounded like he would be on the right track and even if that track turned out to be never-ending, he wouldn't mind one bit.

"This is the part where you say something," Jaskier said, still looking right into his eyes. "Preferably not those grunts that sometimes can barely be called human, but as you know, I'm not particularly picky."

And because Geralt wasn't the epitome of doing what others told him to do either, he leaned in and kissed the bard instead. Jaskier let him and reciprocated just as enthusiastically as he did everything else, carrying it out for as long as their lungs could take, and even when their lips parted, the two of them barely moved, leaving their foreheads pressed against each other in embrace Geralt didn't wish to see end.

"I take it that was meant to be a yes," Jaskier broke the silence with a smile. "Starting and never stopping?"

"Something like that," Geralt agreed and mirrored the smile. Out of the corner of his right eye, he managed to spot the two rolls of blue cloth Jaskier had left behind and relished the irony that he now knew why they were indeed completely different. One was the color of Jaskier's eyes, while the other one was shamefully not.

"Cornflower blue," he said and smiled even wider when Jaskier just gaped at him. "For the wedding."

Jaskier narrowed his eyes in contemplation. "Bold of you to make that decision since we aren't practically engaged."

"You did ask me and I know he will say the same thing."

"That's fair. I wish you didn't have to wait eleven years to see the result, though."

“Hm,” Geralt dismissed, remembering eleven was only a number that normally wouldn’t count for much since time was a fleeting thing anyway. It would never stop just because he wanted it and his prolonged life wasn’t making that truth any easier. If anything, those eleven years would fly by just like the rest and make him feel even more yearning for something no magic or power could grant him. It was something he would always know, but the promise of those eleven years with Jaskier being part of it, of the most special tale of all playing right in front of his eyes, did bring a sense of closure he’d never sought but was glad beyond measure he had now. Those eleven years were yet to pass and even when they did, he would make sure they had countless more.

Nothing that odd when you were a witcher, but when you were a human, the same rules refused to apply. Or did they? "You haven't changed. Even after more than three decades, you still look the same."

"That’s… true," Jaskier admitted awkwardly. "It will be explained in due time too. As much to you as to me. So I’m afraid my lips are sealed."

"And I assume you won't tell me why Beauclair either?"

"It's not like I picked it. That's all on you, though you won't see me complaining. But don't worry, if two higher vampires who wear nothing but dark and gloomy clothes can be happy here, so can an old brooding witcher like you."

"Now that I think about it, I do see some of your hair going grey," Geralt teased and laughed when Jaskier swatted him in retribution. Even if he was meant to disappear from this time right in that moment, there would be no regrets on his end. Jaskier was happy and Geralt could question it all he wanted, but there was no erasing that from his memory now that he'd seen it so openly.

They ended up kissing a few more times after that and when the sun was setting and shining on Jaskier in the angle that was just about right, Geralt admitted that living in Beauclair of all places did have its benefits.

Jaskier didn't stray from his side the whole time. Not even when Geralt asked him to sing something, the bard resolutely said it would have to be without the lute since he had no idea when Geralt was meant to return to his own time and Jaskier didn't wish to miss his last moments here. Geralt remained completely speechless after that, but Jaskier just smiled at him and begin to sing.

Somewhere along the way, when the light was dying out, Geralt felt his eyes closing and the last thing he remembered was the gentle squeeze of his right hand and softly whispered words that would serve as his anchor for the near future awaiting him.

"See you soon, dear heart."

*******************************************************************************************

He wasn't surprised when he managed to find Jaskier only a few months later. Time had always been a relative concept when it came to the bard and "a while" could mean only a few days just as much as it could mean years. Jaskier was resolute on ignoring him the first few weeks, but Geralt vowed to leave only if Jaskier asked him to. No such thing happened even after a few rounds of shouting he rightfully deserved, though. Geralt started and never stopped. Just like he'd promised.

When it was time to return on the Path and Jaskier said he was coming with, Geralt used proper words to thank him.

That same year, Geralt asked him to come to Kaer Morhen with him for the winter. It took some time for it to truly sink in when the bard said yes.

They shared their first kiss in the library of all places since they were completely alone and the light of the candles illuminated Jaskier so perfectly that Geralt could no longer help it. It only took a few more minutes before Jaskier called him "dear heart" for the very first time. And when he received a handful of comments from both Lambert and Eskel about it the next day, it was with a warm smile that he rolled his eyes at them.

He found out Jaskier was part fae a year later when the bard ended up kidnapped by another fae that seemed far too familiar once Geralt got closer and saw her smirk at him.

"Still kidnapping people, I see," he said.

"Please, they're far too boring for me to stick with them. I stopped right after you."

"Then why did you kidnap him?"

"Because I happen to know he's not completely human."

Words weren't enough to describe how he felt after that even though he'd known Jaskier's mortality wouldn't be a problem for decades to come. Words were rarely enough most of the time, but he used them anyway. Especially, when he knew that Jaskier needed to hear them.

They still had moments of weaknesses when stress took over and they ended up fighting, but throughout it all, they stayed and figured it out. Together.

They headed to the coast to get away for a while and it worked just like Jaskier had said it would.

Geralt eventually lost count of how many times Jaskier made him a chaplet, but he never turned any of them down. Ciri caught up fairly quickly and always made one for Jaskier too so they would match.

It was Jaskier who proposed. If blurting out the idea right after performing for a wedding they happened to attend since it was in the village where they decided to spend the night could count as a proper proposal, that is. No Beauclair or Toussaint in sight, but that had never been a factor in this decision anyway. Geralt said yes in a heartbeat and completely ravished the bard the same night.

Even years after, there were still times Geralt would dream of being back on that mountain, but the place no longer haunted him like it used to. It was merely a reminder of something he wished never to repeat.

And it didn't. Because he'd started. And never stopped.

Those eleven years passed and more followed. The most special tale of all indeed turned out to be worth seeing it through to the very end.

 -The End

A/N: I hope you enjoyed. Thank you so much for reading!

[lassostark]

Day 5 Prompt for @geraltfluffweek: Magic

Rating: Teen Relationship/s: Geralt/Jaskier Warnings: None

Summary:

Geralt gets turned into a teen, Jaskier finds him adorable, and along the way Geralt finally learns to use his words.

Excerpt:

“Oh, aren’t you a poor, lovesick one,” the sorceress simpers. She tilts her head, a mischievous smile on her face as she hums thoughtfully at Geralt. “Touch-starved, too. Gods, it must be horrible being a Witcher. All that sacrifice for the greater good has done shit for you. Tell me, when was the last time you didn’t pay someone to touch you?”

Geralt growls in response, gloved hand tightening on the hilt of his silver sword as he ignores the pang in his chest at the cruel words. It’s really not the time let his guard down.

However, before he can take a step forward, the sorceress, dressed in a deep emerald velvet gown, speaks up again.

“I was just on my way after, hmm, tying up some loose ends, so there’s no need for you to growl like a mutt. But you’re a special case, Geralt of Rivia. Perhaps I’ll leave you with a parting gift instead. It should be fun, turning you inside out. Which, you’re welcome, by the way.”

“The fuck—”

Geralt’s irritated response is quickly cut off when the sorceress murmurs an incantation under her breath that not even his enhanced hearing could make out.

A burst of white light is the last thing Geralt sees before he loses consciousness.

~

“Huh.”

“What huh? What does that mean? Is he okay? What is it?”

“It means that I’m assessing your friend, so shut your mouth.”

“Well, that’s very rude—!”

“Jaskier, shut up,” Geralt says through gritted teeth with a hard shove of his elbow to Jaskier’s ribs.

The bard makes an oomph noise before he meets Geralt’s glare with an annoyed huff. Jaskier looks down at Geralt, mouth opening to make a retort, only to shut it closed when he sees the witcher’s expression. Jaskier purses his lips before he looks away, but not before Geralt glimpses the slight twitch on the bard’s mouth.

If possible, the witcher’s scowl deepens when he sees that. Sure, Jaskier is worried about him, hence why they’re at the village’s local mage right now. But not only can Geralt see the unmistakable concern in the bard’s cornflower blue eyes, but he can also smell the amusement pouring off of him in waves. He obviously finds this whole thing hilarious, no matter how worried he appears to be for Geralt’s welfare after his altercation with that godsdamned witch.

Who has likely fucked off to the other side of the Continent, liking searching for her next victims in some backwater village to do god knows what.

Not really Geralt’s problem anymore. However, his current predicament belies that thought.

After some time, the local mage finally straightens up from examining Geralt. One look at her and Geralt’s stomach sinks in dread when he sees the sympathetic look in her grey eyes.

“I’m afraid I can’t do much for you dear,” the mage, Adelaide, says. She sounds genuinely apologetic when she adds, “It’s a simple curse, but I can’t remove it. Sorry.”

“Why can’t you remove it?” Jaskier asks, frowning.

Adelaide shrugs one shoulder. “Because the only one who can break it is the person who has been cursed.”

Almost in unison, the mage and the bard turn their heads to look at Geralt. He glares at them in return when he discerns Jaskier’s questioning gaze.

“If I knew how to break it, do you think we’d be here asking for the fucking cure in the first place?” he snaps, crossing his arms over his, significantly, smaller chest.

“Language,” Adelaide quips. Geralt’s jaw drops when Jaskier gasps at the mage and doesn’t bother to hide his snort of laughter.

“Not. Fucking. Funny.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jaskier says with a shit-eating grin that Geralt is incredibly tempted to wipe off with his fist. “It’s pretty funny, actually. Sixteen-year-old you looks absolutely adorable, Geralt!”

Geralt gives Jaskier his dirtiest look, but he knows the effect of his glare is lost because who would take him seriously when he barely reaches the bard’s chest?

~

“You’re not actually going to carry your swords, are you?”

“They’re not that heavy.”

“Hmm, well, no. I know that. But see, we’re trying to be discreet here. If others see a child with a witcher’s swords strapped to their back, they’re going to wonder, and then they’re going to talk. That’s the opposite of what we’re trying to do here.”

“Fuck.”

An exasperated sigh.

“You really should mind your language, Geralt. People are going to talk and assume I’m a bad influence on a sweet-faced, innocent-looking chi— ow!”

“Fuck off, Jaskier.”

“Rather not, thanks. Now come on, you should ride on Roach, your legs are too— uh. That is, you’re not wearing the proper footwear. And it’s, um, half a day’s ride to the next town. We can settle there first before contacting Yennefer.”

“… Fine.”

“Alright. Great! Here, let me—”

“I don’t need your fucking help. I can get on Roach myself!”

“But—”

“Jaskier.”

“Alright, fine! Hands to myself, see?”

A very, very long moment of silence.

Roach whinnies.

“Fuck.”

“Um, so—”

“Yes. And shut up. We will not speak of this.”

“Sure, Geralt. Sure.”

~

There are a few things which Geralt takes note of:

He’s physically sixteen-years-old again, meaning that his body is not of a Witcher’s, but is instead of a child’s. So nobody looks twice at him, in fear or disgust. Frankly, Geralt finds the sudden anonymity refreshing.

Because he looks like he used to before the trials, his hair is back to its original brunet, striking green eyes replacing golden cat-like eyes.

Geralt was never a short person to begin with, but he absolutely detests how Jaskier towers over him. The bard’s cornflower blue eyes twinkles as he smiles impishly down at Geralt, the annoying bastard. Geralt’s petty enough to kick his shin, but chooses not to for some reason.

Which brings him to his fourth observation:

The human part of Geralt that craves physical affection, that constant phantom ache in his chest that only dulled with time, comes back in almost full force.

And it frightens Geralt how easy it is to allow himself to feel human again.

(Read on AO3)

[alphawitchnyxx]

Cold Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

Summary: The first snowfall of winter happens before Geralt and Jaskier make it up to Kaer Morhen for the season. The cold makes the heart grow fonder.

Author’s Note: This is just more fluff because honestly I’m in a fluffy mood these days because the world is in shambles and I need something to make me feel emotions other than rage. Not an established relationship, love confessions. Also available on AO3!

___________________________________________________________________

The cave wasn’t the greatest shelter, but it was going to have to work. Geralt and Jaskier had been making great time back to the witchers’ keep for the winter season but a snowstorm had caught them off-guard, forcing them off of the Path to find shelter.

“G….g…g…Ger…rr…ralt..ttt,” Jaskier chattered, his whole body quivering. His skin was pale, his lips a light shade of blue, his usually bright eyes dulled with the early signs of hypothermia. “I….I’m f..f…f…fre…freezing.”

Geralt frowned, his brow furrowing. He was definitely chilled, but his mutations protected him against the worst of the biting wind. He knew that if he didn’t get Jaskier warm soon, the bard wouldn’t survive the night. He chewed his lip as he gathered some wood from outside the cave, piling it high before casting a quick Igni, the wood bursting into flame. “Sit by the fire, Jaskier,” he said as he dug out his heavy winter cloak to drape over Jaskier’s shoulders.

Jaskier nodded, sitting as close to the fire as he could, his back against the back wall of the cave. The weight of Geralt’s cloak over his shoulders helped to calm his shivering, but he was still cold. “Ger…Geralt…still cold.”

Geralt nodded, coming to sit behind him. He wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s body, pulling them together. He pressed his nose to the crown of the bards’ head, inhaling deeply. His scent was dulled and his pulse was sluggish, making Geralt panic. Jaskier needed something more.

“Take off your clothes,” Geralt said bluntly.

Jaskier turned to stare at him, mouth agape. “Th…that s...s…seems wrong,” he stuttered.

Geralt was already stripping off his armor as he looked at the bard. He looked so fragile like this, his skin pale and clammy against the bitter cold of the air around them.

“Survival basics. We take off our clothes and huddle together and share body heat,” the witcher responded. “I’ll help you.” He laid out their bedrolls, draping Roach’s saddle blanket over them to provide a buffer from the cold stone cave. When he was satisfied, he moved to Jaskier, gently picking him up and holding him to his chest. He could feel the bard shaking in his arms and he swallowed roughly. He could feel a pit of fear settling in his stomach as he set Jaskier down and began stripping him down, moving as quickly as possible without shredding any of the clothing.

Once they were both stripped down to their smallclothes, Geralt wrapped both of them in the cloaks and whatever spare blankets he could find in their packs. He kept Jaskier close, pressing the bard’s chest to his own. “It’s going to be okay, Julek,” he whispered, his calloused fingers gently rubbing small circles into Jaskier’s back.

“Di…didn’t think y…you r…r…reme…membered th..that n..na..name,” Jaskier said, clinging to Geralt for dear life. He could feel his temperature slowly rising as he remained curled up against Geralt, the white-haired man emanating what seemed like an unnatural amount of body heat. “I think…I only t…t…told you a..about th..that name once. Y…you re…really do listen, ”he said, sighing softly as his shivering began to slow before stopping completely.

Geralt smiled as Jaskier settled in his arms, inhaling deeply through his nose. Jaskier was starting to smell like himself again, the warm cinnamon and buttercup scent filling his nose. It was still muted but it was stronger than before. He looked down and saw that there was the slightest hint of color returning to his cheeks and lips. “I always listen,” he said quietly, burying his face against Jaskier’s hair.

The cave fell into silence and Geralt swallowed roughly. He had hoped he’d never have to actually face his emotions, but almost losing Jaskier to hypothermia had made him realize that Jaskier was painfully and mortally human and he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost him to something as stupid as hypothermia.  

He knew he had feelings for the young bard, and it was only in the past few weeks that he labelled those emotions as love. He could even pinpoint the exact day: it was the day he invited Jaskier to winter with him at Kaer Morhen. Jaskier had been so excited to finally see his home and as Geralt listened to him ramble on about meeting Lambert, Eskel, and Vesemir at last, he realized that he cared more for Jaskier than he had about anyone in a very, very long time. That was the moment he knew he loved his bard.

“Really?” Jaskier’s quiet question pierced though the silence like a dagger. He had stopped shaking and his teeth were no longer chattering. The feeling had returned to his extremities and he no longer felt like he was on death’s doorstep.

“Really,” Geralt responded. “In the beginning, all those years ago leaving Posada, I would tune you out during the day. But then I got…I got used to hearing your voice. I liked hearing it, even if I didn’t care much for...for what you were saying,” he admitted. “It got to the point where I’d actively listen to you, even if I didn’t respond. And all those winters apart, the times we’d separate….the silence was unbearable. And…it wasn’t until I asked you to…to come to Kaer Morhen this year that I realized…that…I love you” he said quietly. His chest felt like someone was squeezing it, and he held his breath as he waited for Jaskier to say something, anything, back.

They lay in silence again, the tightening feeling in his chest threatening to shatter his ribs and break heart.

“Jaskier,” he started, prepared to tell the bard that if he hated him or didn’t reciprocate those feelings he’d bring him back down to Ard Carriagh and give him all his remaining coin and walk back up the mountain alone if that’s what would please him. He never got the chance because suddenly his lips were captured in a kiss.

Kissing Jaskier wasn’t like any other kiss Geralt had ever had. Whores didn’t kiss him when he visited brothels, and the kisses he shared with Yennefer were aggressive and full of teeth and anger. Jaskier’s lips were soft, and Geralt could taste the remnants of the spices from their lunch. He pulled back gently, his amber eyes meeting with cerulean ones. “I love you so much, Jaskier, and if you don’t love me back or if you don’t want this, tell me and I’ll carry you back down this mountain and let you go on and live your life,” he said, fingers coming up to brush his chestnut hair from his face.

“Gods, Geralt, I’ve been in love with you for ages. I never said anything because I figured I’d never be able to hold your affections. I’m just a human bard, you’re a witcher, why would you want me?” Jaskier’s voice was light but laced with sadness. “Besides, you had Yennefer, and I can’t compete with a sorceress.”

Geralt pulled him in, kissing him again. “You are a hundred times better than Yennefer,” he said, pressing their foreheads together. “Yennefer was just…I don’t know, there? I don’t love her, I never truly did. I love you, Julek. And I’ll love you as long as you’ll let me.”

Jaskier smiled, his hand snaking up to gently cup Geralt’s face. He held it there for a moment, their eyes locked onto each other with reverence and adoration. “You may love me until the end of time, Geralt of Rivia, and I shall love you until my dying breath.”

Geralt breathed a sigh of relief, pressing his lips to Jaskier’s forehead. “I’m glad you feel the same way. I don’t know how I would have coped…what I would have done if you had died tonight without ever knowing…without ever hearing that I love you.”

Jaskier hummed softly in response, nestling his head into Geralt’s chest. “I’m happy you told me. I’m even happier that you saved me from freezing to death.” He chuckled softly before yawning, flexing his muscles underneath their cocoon of cloaks.

Geralt’s chest rumbled softly with laughter. “Sleep, Jas. I promise I’ll be right here in the morning.”

The bard nodded, drifting off to sleep in the arms of his witcher. Geralt listened to his heart rate and breathing slow down and even out, relaxing when he heard Jaskier snoring in his arms. When he was sure that the bard was asleep and not in danger, he closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him. And when he opened his eyes again, Jaskier was still there, pressed against him and flushed pink with warmth and life, and he knew that things were going to work out just fine.

[sarcastic-space-gal]

The Dancer with Golden Earrings (Part 5)

Summary: It has been a year since you and Jaskier finally declared to one another. Both of you had never felt this happy in your entire life, until destiny decided to give a cruel turn of events.

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader;

Word Count: 4k;

Warning: Angst, so much angst, mention of blood and wounds;

A/N: I almost cried writing this. EnJOy! (feedback is really appreciated)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

When you regained consciousness your body didn’t respond to your commands. You tried to open your eyes, you tried to talk or just mumble something, to turn your head… nothing. The only thing you were able to do was breathing. For now. Suddenly you felt a cold sensation on your cheek then a small drop running down your face. Was it

snowing… or were you crying?

            ___________________________________________________

A year. A year had already passed without you even noticing it. A year since you and Jaskier shared that desired kiss, and you still remembered it as it was just happened.

Geralt knew right away that something had happened when he came back to the camp covered in blood and other nasty fluids all over him and Jaskier didn’t say anything, not even a sarcastic comment.

He just stood there, playing his lute, his eyes bright with happiness as he occasionally glanced at you while you fixed the things in your bag.

Rain had stopped so you and Jaskier decided to head back to the camp. On your way back Jaskier couldn’t let go of your hand whether it was rubbing his thumb on you soft skin, squeezing lightly your intertwined fingers or kissing the back of your hand tenderly, before reluctantly letting go.

“Geralt! Here you are! How did the hunt go?” you asked smiling, relieved to see him safe and sound.

“Screw the hunt! We are together!” Jaskier sprinted next to you and in front of the witcher, encircling your waist with his arm, earning a giggle from you.

Geralt looked at you two, forgetting the tiring sensation after the hunt and his lips curved in a small smile.

“Hmmm” he ‘happily’ mumbled.

“Hmmm? Just ‘Hmmm’?! You have nothing else to say Geralt?! Just ‘Hmmm’?!”

Seeing the witcher completely soaked in all kinds of fluids and Jaskier’s uncontrollable rant was surely an hilarious scene.

Jaskier’s fist went to his hips “You should change your name in ‘Grumbler of Rivia’”

“‘Geralt’ is fine” he dropped his swords and turned on his heels, he was probably going to take a bath in the nearest river.

But before he could take another step he turned and got closer to the bard, laying a surprisingly soft hand on the bard’s shoulder.

“I’m happy for you” he said, smiling.

Jaskier mirrored his smile “Thank you, Geralt”

The witcher then turned and left but Jaskier couldn’t not notice how the smell didn’t follow him, instead was still filling the air. That’s when he turned and looked at his shoulder, now completely covered with the worst smelling fluid on earth.

“GERALT!”

And now here you were, still traveling around with them, being the happiest you have ever been.

After having a small dinner you sat around the campfire and began sewing the hem of your dress while listening to Jaskier, who was plucking his lute lightly. You were so focused on your work that Jaskier’s annoyed huff almost went unnoticed.

Then his face lit up “Yes!” he silently exclaimed, finding the right rhythm or rhyme.

“Composing something new?” your voice made Jaskier jump a little as he lifted his head from the strings, uneasiness clear in his expression.

“Just playing around with some notes”

“Alright then, keep your secrets” you winked, earning a smile from the bard.

In complete silence he placed down the lute and sat by your side, kissing your temple as you leaned on his touch.

“How far is the city Geralt?”

“I don’t know. Maybe days”

“Days?!” you and Jaskier both asked at unison.

“And that thing is coming with us?”

The ‘thing’ to which Jaskier’s was referring to was a bruxa carcass, result of Geralt’s hunt that he brought back to the camp, filling the air with the worst persistent smell that haunted your nostrils.

“Yes, it will. I hope I’ll get a payment for that, and for the others too”

“What do you mean?”

“I killed one but I think there are more out there” Jaskier gulped loudly at the witcher’s statement.

The idea of spending the night in a forest full of the worst creatures sent directly from the underworld surely made you and Jaskier feel uneasy as you shifted in your seats and looked around you with growing wariness.

However you knew Geralt was a skilled swordsman and having him by your side was reassuring.

“What about you? Who requested your presence?”

This time you spoke “Actually we don’t know” you took out from your bag the letter you received just few weeks ago “the invitation is signed ‘an admirer of yours’”

“Finally someone who has good taste” said the bard.

The fire was getting weaker, Jaskier could see his breath every time he exhaled as he kept you close providing a little warmth to your freezing figure.

“We should get some rest” Geralt mentioned before laying down on his bedroll facing away from you “If you can’t control yourselves tonight just be quiet.”

Your heart skipped a beat while wild thoughts appeared in Jaskier’s mind.

“Geralt it is already quite demanding trying to ignore the foul-smelling creature you brought back. I’m not even sure if I can sleep tonight, that smell is haunting”

Soon after you both heard Geralt snoring, your eyelids became heavier as you sat up and walked toward your bedroll.

“Where are you going?” Jaskier’s voice made you look behind your shoulders.

“”I’m going to...bed?”

“Oh no no no no no” he quickly sat up, grabbed your things and placed them near his “Do you think I would let you sleep over there?”

With that he got under his thick blanket and looked at you expectantly.

“Come on!” he beckoned to you.

Smiling brightly you didn’t think about twice and snuggled into him, the feeling of his arms wrapped around you sent shivers down your spine as you slowly warmed up.

The night was cold and the stars shined above you. It was one of those winter nights where the sky is clear and the pungent cold bites your skin.

“I’m so lucky to have you” he whispered as he looked up to the sky. You did the same.

Scooting closer to him, you placed your head in the crook of his neck, feeling his head leaning softly on you.

“I knew destiny had more in store for me… for us”

Almost at unison your gaze broke from the sky as you met each other’s eyes. I could get lost in those eyes forever, you both thought. Then your lips melted in a blissful kiss.

“I love you” you said.

“I love you too Y/n” he whispered “You are mine and I’m yours”

             __________________________________________________

The night was cold and stars were obscured by clouds. The moon occasionally appeared between them, illuminating everything around you.

That was the first you noticed when you finally managed to crack your eyes open. The little snowflakes tingling your face let you know it was snowing.

Ultimately your eyes adjusted to the dark, you were laying on the ground, on your left side as you faced a three. Actually there were many of them.

In that moment you remembered. A memory flashed into your mind. You remembered anger, sorrow, emptiness, as you ran, careless of the bitter cold hitting your skin, tears ran down your cheeks, your eyes red.

Why was I crying?

Your thoughts were interrupted by loud sounds coming from behind you. Recognizing three distinct voices. Someone was screaming as a metallic sound pierced the air, a sword maybe? An unnatural growl followed.

Then you heard it: someone was calling your name, more and more loudly, repeatedly. You tried to answer, but you couldn’t.

The night was cold but you felt a warm sensation around you. Moving the hand that was laying on your side made you notice how red it actually was. It was for the cold, right?

           ___________________________________________________

At dawn the three of you left the forest. The trip was long and exhausting, traveling around during winter time was already quite challenging and having a rotting carcass near you didn’t make it any easier or a better experience.

If that wasn’t enough, you unfortunately discovered that you had misjudged your position and the city was farther away than you thought.

It took you almost a week to arrive, obviously stopping by along the way in small towns to buy food and sleep in a true bed. Luckily in one of those towns Geralt managed to get some coins for the rotting creature, getting rid of it and ultimately freeing you from the fetid smell.

When you finally glimpse the city’s gates, it looked like a mirage.

“Oh thank you!” Jaskier sighed loudly in relief “I was dreaming about this moment for days”

“So you don’t dream about me?” you playfully pouted behind the bard’s shoulders.

“Dear, I dream about you every night. Sometimes is you welcoming me at the city’s gates, sometimes is you in a warm tavern dancing and many times is me and you in a comfortable bed”

Laughing you poked him in the back.

Your way to the city was probably one of the most tiresome experience of your life but having Jaskier by your side made you forget about the cold and the endless rides on Pegasus’ back. Every night you would lay down next to him stargazing in his arms as you drifted off to sleep. The memories you both made during those times would never be forgotten.

“Now we just have to find our mysterious admirer” Jaskier mentioned while you got off Pegasus.

“I think you are talking about me, Viscount”

A silky, melodious female voice made you turn around where you saw a young woman around Jaskier’s age, dressed in a refined and elegant dress, her hair impeccable. She smiled, but not at you both, she had eyes only for Jaskier, and you immediately noticed.

“Countess de Stael? What a surprise” uneasiness clear in his voice.

He knows her?

“Jaskier, is such a pleasure having you here again” she approached you two and reached her hand out for Jaskier to kiss. Taken aback by her gesture he awkwardly took her hand and gave a small kiss.

“You didn’t change a bit Jaskier since we last saw each other”

All different kinds of thoughts filled your mind, as you tried to not get carried away by your emotions, you decided to play it off and not cause any scene.

“It was a long time ago. May I present you Y/n?” you stepped beside him and felt his hand in the small of your back, reassuringly.

“It’s so nice to make your acquaintance, Countess” you bowed a little.

She then proceeded to make the most perfect fake smile you ever saw in your life before greeting you briefly.

The countess however couldn’t not notice the complicity between you two “So you are together” Another fake smile.

“Indeed” Jaskier stated looking at you fondly.

“So you got over his wild past after all?” she asked finally making complete eye contact with you.

Your eyes went wide.

“Excuse me?” you couldn’t continue because she cut you off again.

“Oh but where are my manners, you must be very tired after a long ride, follow me I’ll show you where you will stay”

Her dress whirled around following her movement as you and Jaskier shared a look, anger in your eyes, uneasiness in his.

The inn was luxurious, the Countess had reserved only the best for her guests: the rooms were huge, warm and styled with all kinds of sophisticated furnishings. She then proceeded to accompany you to the assembly hall that had been completely decorated for the occasion.

“I will see you tomorrow night. I can’t wait to hear you play again like in the old days”

Back in your shared room, you and Jaskier had a lot to talk about. It was clear that he was troubled by that whole situation but you needed answers.

“Jaskier just tell me” you sighed, a little nervous but determined to listen everything he had to say.

He walked over to you and sat on your bed next to you, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“We met few years ago” he began, his tone terse and quieter than usual “It was one of my first travel around in palaces and the first time I played and sang for noble men and women”

You listened carefully in complete silence, occasionally nodding at what he said.

“Then I met her… it was a short romance, just a kiss, nothing important, really. I didn’t know she was her who sent the letter, I would have never agreed to come here” he looked up this time and met your eyes.

“Y/n, I…” before he could say anything else you placed your index finger on his lips lightly and at his own surprise, you smiled.

“Jaskier, we both have a past, I’m not here to judge you or judge your past, what I do care about is us” the hand that was on his lips went to his cheek.

The soft rubbing of your thumb on his skin made him relax a little, as he melted in your warm touch.

“I want you to know that you are the best thing that ever happened to me, I want let this situation cause arguments between us. You are mine and I’m yours.” he stated.

“You are mine, and I’m yours” you repeated.

His hand went to grab yours that was on his cheek, kissing it steadily.

Relief washed over both of you as you leaned making your foreheads touch lightly, enjoying this little moment together.

“If she proposes her hand to you again I’ll cut it off”

            ___________________________________________________

The night was terribly cold.

The tears you shed before were now dry and frozen on your face. Snow cleared, the moon fully shined in the dark sky, the ground was now filled with a white cover. Voices still roared behind you. You had to turn around. Using your hand you pushed a little as your body ached from head to toes. Only now you noticed how labored your breathing was, how tired you were. Gasping for the sudden movement you ultimately managed to turn and laid on your back and saw what was really happening.

The hand you used to push yourself around was now in front of you, staining the snow below. That’s when you realized the red color in your hand wasn’t for the cold.

            ___________________________________________________

Destiny likes to play games and it’s an excellent player. Just a terrible mix of bad coincidences placed at the right time and the trick is done.

That night Geralt was out hunting as you approached the assembly hall. The crowd gathered around the small stage was unbelievably large. Guess who was in the front row? The countess obviously, who kept looking at Jaskier as he played around you. However he was absolutely unconcerned about it and fixed his gaze on you and your beautiful dancing figure.

After performing some of your best songs, Jaskier went to the center of the stage “Now a new ballad, an exclusive for tonight”

You were a little surprised, usually you and Jaskier decided the songs to perform before going on stage, but he never mentioned this.

The song started slowly, his voice just a whisper. Improvising, you began moving around following the rhythm. Dancing around you kept listening to the words he was singing… a beautiful woman, the love he felt for her, the way her kiss saved his soul. One of the most beautiful ballad he had ever written. The rhythm, his tender words, the soft movement of his fingers on the lute’s strings

brought everyone to tears. You yourselves had watery eyes.

When he bowed, signaling the end of the ballad, the audience exploded as the room filled with a thunderous applause. You were instantly surrounded by all of them, complimenting you for the performance, for the ballads, for the beautiful night you had provided.

Fortunately the horde quickly scattered when Jaskier beckoned to you to follow him to the inn.

“I have a little fan here with me, I’ll be right there in few minutes” you said before picking up a little girl, who was completely obsessed with you and your golden earrings.

“Those a’ so shiny” she said playing with one of them.

“Do you like them?”

Jaskier smiled at the scene and nodded before heading out.

Five? Maybe ten minutes had passed since the bard had exited, when the little girl yawned and asked her parents to go to bed. You waved goodnight to the little family and went back to the inn for a much needed sleep.

Entering, you went upstairs toward your room and heard some noises.

“Jaskier, you have to tell me from where came that beautiful bal-”

The noises ceased right when you lifted your head and looked right in front of you. You could swear if someone was right next to you in that moment, he would have heard your heart breaking in million pieces. Tears welled in your eyes clouding your vision, but you could never forget what you had just saw.

Just outside your room there were Jaskier and the countess kissing. She was pushing him against the wall by the chest as he had his hands on her shoulders, his grip tight.

The bard immediately noticed your presence and pushed her away a little.

“Y/n!” he exclaimed as she turned and maliciously looked at you “That’s not what it seems”

You couldn’t hold it back, a hot tear ran down your cheek.

“How could you” you sobbed “How could you?”

The countess still had her hands on his chest before Jaskier firmly pushed her away even more.

The scene in front of you was unbearable, you backed off few steps before storming down the stairs. Without hesitation you took off running, careless of who you met down the streets and Jaskier’s voice calling you.

You ran, ran and ran ultimately exiting the city’s borders and entering the forest. It was snowing when you decided to halt and catch you breath. The houses and the city’s lights were no longer visible when you looked behind you, but you couldn’t care less. The usual silent environment when the snow covered everything around you, was now filled with your cries. Your uncontrollable sobs shook your freezing body as you collapsed on your knees, your hand covered your face.

“Y/n? Y/N?” you heard between your sobs “Y/n?!”

Just few seconds after you heard his voice calling your name, Jaskier appeared next to you.

“Y/n please let me explain”

“There nothing to explain, it is quite clear what it’s happening”

“No please let me-”

“It was only a game for you? All the time we spent together, our relationship, when you said you loved me, they were just empty words”

“No Y/n, that’s not true”  he tried to reach out but you lifted and took a step back from him, anger clear in your voice even if your eyes showed how heartbroken you were.

“Now I understand. The song. The ballad you composed and sang tonight. You knew she was the mysterious admirer, you knew she was here. You wrote it just for her, isn’t it?”

“Y/n please”

You sobbed and his heart ached. Seeing you cry was the worst thing on earth and knowing he was the cause of it was unbearable.

“When I came back to the inn she was waiting for me outside our door, I dismissed her, telling that I wasn’t interested at all” he explained.

Your crying got quieter but your wrath was still there. Just the idea of her getting close to him was intolerable.

“She tried to convince me, she tried to get close to me but when I refused again she pushed me back and kissed me… in that exact moment you appeared”

You listened carefully.

“Y/n I would never do that you, never in my entire life I could disrespect you in a such horrible way. You are my everything. Your kiss heals my soul, you know it” Your eyes went wide.

“Yes, the song was for you” he smiled softly.

In a whisper, you broke the silence “Jaskier”

The sorrowful hint in his eyes spoke to you, you saw he was suffering for what happened and you didn’t want let that pompous countess ruin what you built together. Deep down in your heart you trusted Jaskier, his words were only the confirmation.

He seemed to read your mind because he moved closer to you and hugged you, firmly, steadily.

One of your hand went behind his neck, bringing him even closer to you as you enjoyed each other’s presence.

“I’m sorry” he said after few minutes, still wrapped around you.

“It’s ok” you smiled “I’m sorry, because tomorrow I’ll commit murder”

Jaskier burst out laughing breaking the hug.

“I love you” he said taking your hands in his.

“I love-”

Your head snapped to the side.

“Wha-”

“Shh” you raised your hand and listened carefully “Did you hear that?”

“No, what did you hear?” he asked confused as he began looking around. Then he heard them too.

Footsteps on the snow. But who could be wandering around during night time?

From behind a three appeared what you instantly recognized to be a bruxa. Fangs, sharp claws, dry blood around her mouth and neck, there was no doubt.

Fear clouded your minds, you were far from the city and had no weapons with you to at least try and defend yourselves.

“Y/n when I tell you, you run ok?” Jaskier protectively put himself in front of you.

There was no way you were leaving without him “I won’t let you here with that thing”

You didn’t know how, even thinking about it afterwards you couldn’t explain it to yourself. A bruxa is known to be fast moving, impossible to dodge almost, but somehow you managed to see her run forward, her claws open ready to strike on her preys.

Not him, you thought.

In one mighty movement you pushed Jaskier to the side taking the hit.

“Y/N!” he cried.

Your body was thrown against a three as you collapsed on the ground on your side. The bruxa then turned her head and looked at Jaskier with gluttony written on her gruesome face.

“You and I didn’t finish!” someone shouted.

Geralt.

He had drunk one of his potions, his eyes completely black, a feral expression as he glared at the creature.

The witcher sprinted, wielding his silver sword and began fighting with the vampire. His movement showed years of experience, his strikes deadly.

Jaskier took advantage of the moment and ran toward you.

            ___________________________________________________

Now you remembered. The bruxa. The hit. The screams. Everything.

Jaskier saw you pushing yourself to lay on your back as he approached. Dropping to his knees he saw one of his worst nightmares appear in front of him. The white candid color of the snow was now crimson, a horrible halo around your tired body.

“Gods” he breathed out.

That’s when his hands started shaking lightly in fear.

“What did you do? What did you do?” he asked repeatedly, his voice just above a whisper.

From the gash on your right side, blood was oozing profusely before Jaskier tried to put pressure on it.

The bard was wearing that blue doublet you liked so much, it was the exact same color of his eyes, now stained in that dreadful crimson color. You looked up to gaze into his red-rimmed eyes that were darting back and forth in worry. He noticed.

“Y/n you have to stay awake, can you do this for me?”

Geralt was still fighting behind you but Jaskier couldn’t care less.

“Jaskier” you breathed.

He lifted one hand from the wound to cup your face but stopped midair when he noticed the red stain on it.

“I’m here love, I’m here” and for the first time you saw him cry, his body shook with sobs, tears ran down freely.

With all your strength left, you reached out and placed your hand on his thigh “It’s...it’s ok”

“Hey no no no no no, you can’t do this to me, Y/n-Y/n!”

Gently, he lifted your upper body and wrapped his stron arm around your shoulders as you laid on his lap. A single hot tear ran down his eye and fell on your cheek.

Pressure, i need to stop the bleeding, he thought.

“We will get help, you’re going to be okay” he wasn’t sure if he was saying that to you or to himself “You’re going to be okay, just keep those beautiful eyes open ok?”

The fear of losing you forever, clouded his mind.

Your face journeyed from sadness to pain, the fabric Jaskier put on the gash couldn’t stop the bleeding “I-it hurts”

“Don’t look, don’t look keep your eyes on me, Geralt we have to go!” he shouted behind his shoulder.

The bruxa was injured, the fight was ending and the witcher was the winner, but Jaskier could feel your life slowly fading in his arms. 

”Stay... stay with me” he cried, kissing your forehead.

It was unbearable. Cruel. Painful.

Destiny had brought you together and now it was tearing you apart.

TAG LIST:

@alyxkbrl​ @spencer-reid-in-a-pool​

[lemondropsssss]

There is a twenty-seven-second stretch of time between when Jaskier wakes up and the exact moment he remembers he invited Geralt of Rivia and his Child of Surprise Cirilla, the fucking Lost Princess of Cintra, into his home. Of his own free will and with embarrassingly little prompting. Maybe, just maybe, if he stays in bed for a few moments longer his house guests will have magically disappeared. Geralt’s a Witcher and weird magical shit happens all the time, it’s possible.

But then a door opens down the hall and the too heavy footsteps of decidedly-not-Bea and most-definitely-Geralt sound on the stairs, which seems fairly damning evidence for the ‘Geralt is still in his house and he is going to have to deal with that in a mature way’ side of things. And mature adults rise early and make pleasant conversation with their guests over breakfast. He leverages himself up with a groan and goes about getting himself ready for the day.

Jaskier washes his face in the clean water Bea left out for him the night before, grateful for the cold as to shake off his morning apprehension. He dresses plainly in a off-white shirt, dark blue doublet, tawny-brown breeches with soft leather boots of the same color, and then spends possibly too long staring at his reflection in the glass before deeming the outfit acceptable. With a last fluff of his hair he makes his way downstairs, steadfastly not thinking about the heavy weight of nervousness clinging to him.

At the ground floor landing he stops, hearing the soft murmur of a girl in the front room. He pushes open the door, and can’t help but smile at the sight that meets him. Ciri is curled up on the ledge in front of the window. Her bedspread is draped over her shoulders, and she has tucked it over Arthur next to her. The old dog looks smitten, basking in the attention as Ciri strokes soft fingers through his fur.

“-And that’s when I found Geralt, or he might have found me, and then we found Yen together. Geralt said that we’re going somewhere high in the mountains. Have you ever been?” Arthur doesn’t answer, but that doesn’t seem to deter Ciri. “Me neither. I’m excited about the snow, though. Geralt said it’ll get as tall as him, but he might’ve been joking, it’s hard to tell with him.”

“It’s all in the eyes,” Jaskier says, blatently forgetting that Ciri did not know she was being overheard, and then feeling terrible when it frightens her. The girl jumps nearly half a foot, whirling around to face Jaskier with a wild look in her eye, and nearly toppling off the ledge as she does. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He steps further into the room, hands held towards her with his palms up. She relaxes incrementally, tucking her blanket tighter around herself, but he can tell she’s still on edge.

“Geralt and Arthur are much the same,” Jaskier says and takes a seat in a plush armchair a good few feet away, letting her have her space. “Not particularly verbose, either of them, but good listeners.” He offers a smile which she returns. “There were some days when we were traveling I don’t believe Geralt said more than two words to me. But he didn’t mind if I talked,” Liar, the voice in his head hissed, “And I knew he was listening.” What nonsense are you filling her head with? “But joking, that’s all in the eyes. I didn’t even notice it until he’d done it a few times, but the corners of his eyes crinkle when he’s laughing, even if his mouth looks the same. Best way to know a Witcher, my dear: study the eye crinkles.”

Ciri regards him for a long moment, head tilted to the side in thought. Just like Geralt, isn’t it? Would he like the lie you’re spreading?

“Did you sleep out here all night?” He asks, finding her gaze far too searching for his comfort level.

“No, I uh-” She pauses, and her fingers resume their petting through Arthur’s fur, “I couldn’t sleep. I have dreams, sometimes, that aren’t very friendly. I saw him here when I went up to bed last night, so I thought he might still be here. I meant to go back up, but I liked watching the people. I missed the city.” It’s a quiet admission, but Jaskier understands. There’s a difference between city quiet and middle of nowhere quiet. Insects, birds, animals, cannot match the ever-present hum of a city. Growing up in a castle is much the same; there’s always someone awake, some human making noise somewhere. The absence of that can be jarring, and Jaskier well remembers his many sleepless nights under an open sky.

Jaskier lets her be, watches her watching the world wake up. He leaves after a long moment, casting a backward glance at Ciri and her companion. She has resettled them with Arthur stretched over her lap, her fingers scritch-scritching against his head, leaning cross legged against the wall of the window seat, a tired and lost look in her eye.

He takes the stairs to the kitchen two at a time, resolving to bring Ciri some breakfast at least, but stops short before he reaches the last step.

“My horse.” He hears Geralt say, voice rough and worn. It seems both his house guests are in need of recuperation.

“Oh, yes, I had Erik take her two houses down to the Roiche home. After Master Julian helped their son get into the University they’ve given us use of their stables when we have the need. I can send for him or-”

“I’ll take him, Bea. I think we both know Erik won’t be among the living for a few hours yet.” They both startle at the arrival of Jaskier, Geralt’s face dropping into a scowl and he knows it’s because Geralt didn’t hear his arrival. “Bea, Fiona slept poorly, she’s in the front room with Arthur now. Will you bring her some toast with butter and jam, and maybe a cup of your sleepy tea?”

Bea tuts something about poor dear girls and bustles off to prepare her meal, setting the kettle to boil, slicing the bread, pulling this bottle and that jar down from the pantry, all with expert skill honed over her years in the kitchen.

“Who’s Arthur?” Now Geralt’s scowl is about something entirely different. “I don’t like leaving Fiona with a man I don’t know, Ja- Julian.”

“Well good, because it’s a dog Geralt, good gods. Although,” He pauses to consider, smirk firmly in place, “Watching you try to fight the ten pound dog might be entertaining. We should consider it as an afternoon activity. I bet Fiona’d like it.” He ignores Geralt’s warming growl and turns on his heel quickly to hide his grin at provoking such a reaction.

“ Julian. The horse.” Ooh, scary voice. A look over his shoulder confirms he has on his scary face as well.

“Yes, yes, c’mon, then. It’s rude to keep a lady waiting.” Jaskier leaves without bothering to check if Geralt is following him, but he can feel the Witcher’s eyes on him as they leave the house. He guides them down the sleepy street a short ways, coming to a stop at a gated alley between two houses. He unlocks it with a key from his belt purse, and leads Geralt down a narrow path opening into a small courtyard with a small but well built stable tucked in behind the residence.

Roach is alone in the stall, and she lets out a nicker at the sight of friends. Jaskier approaches slowly, hand held out flat for her to sniff. He’s known multiple Roaches over the years, but all the mares have seemed to have the same bite-first policy when it came to unsanctioned touching.

“Hello, you brave, beautiful creature. Do you remember me?” Roach butts her head into his chest, and he huffs a laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ve missed you.” He whispers it like a secret as he strokes a hand down her velvet soft muzzle. He traces his fingers across the delicate white markings on her face with a soft reverence. He’d liked every previous Roach well enough, but this was the only one who’d ever returned his affections. It may have had something to do with the treats he’d fed her any time he thought Geralt wasn’t looking.

“She missed you, too.” Geralt’s voice from behind makes him jump, and Jaskier realizes he has quite forgotten they had an audience. “She was mad at me for a week after- well, after. Didn’t like that you were gone, kept trying to get into my pockets for treats.” His voice is low and rough, like he’d been speaking the whole night, and Jaskier does not turn to meet his gaze. “You always said she had better sense than me. Think you might’ve been right about that.” A pause, a clearing of the throat, and then the graze of fingertips at his elbow. “I think you might’ve been right about a few things, actually.”

“Oh? Twenty two years and I might’ve been right about ‘a few things’?” Jaskier turns and instantly regrets the move as it brings him chest to chest with a too-close Geralt. “How-” His throat is suddenly very dry and really, when did Geralt get this close? The man hates unnecessary physical contact. Jaskier folds his arms over his chest to hide his shaking hands before clearing his throat and trying again. “How magnanimous of you, Witcher. Tell me, which things was I right about?”

“Fiona, for one. Whenever you tried to broach the subject on the Path I shut you up, or just left you somewhere. That was unfair of me.” Geralt’s brow furrows, his head tilts to the side, and the way that alone tugs at Jaskier’s heart is wildly unfair. How can he be so endearing even now? “That was when I started pushing you away, I think. After Cintra. I knew you went back there, that you’d seen her and I couldn’t...” He trails off, and the silence stretches between them.

“Never knew you to be the introspective type.” It’s said quietly and mostly directed at Roach, but he knows Geralt will hear him.

“Yen might’ve had something to say about it all last time we were together.” Cue blood rushing in his ears, a pressure in his head, a percussive beat sounding out Yen Yen Yen Yen Yen against his skull. “She didn’t like it when I told her what had happened. What I said. She’s the one who suggested finding you here on our way to Kaer Morhen. So I could apologize.”

“So all this is just you doing as your witch tells you. Makes sense, I’ve never known you to be so acquiescent to anyone else.” He can’t keep the bitterness from his voice, and it sours on his tongue even as he says it. He should have known Geralt was back with Yennefer. That’s what he did; she would swann in with some magical adventure and he would drop everything to follow her, and then when their dual stubbornness would come to a head and she’d leave him in a fit of righteous anger he would trail back to Jaskier to start the game all over again. And Jaskier would let him, the absolute fool, every time. “Huh, introspective and obedient. I knew I should’ve done a silver test when you showed up at my door.”

Hurt passes over Geralt’s face and he draws back, eyes darting across Jaskier’s face. He’s still for a moment before he reaches into his boot, bringing out a small silver dagger. He presses it to the skin of his forearm for a long moment before holding out the hilt to Jaskier. “If you’re unsatisfied, feel free to test me with whatever you like, however many times you like. I’m no doppler and no trick, Jask.”

“My name is Julian,” He snaps, before looking down at the knife in his hand. At the sight of it his eyes widen, and a weight drops onto his chest.

Jaskier grasps the hilt in a shaking hand, testing the familiar strength in his grip. He knows this knife. Geralt gave him this knife when he turned twenty-five. There were buttercups carved into the blade, and he’d fancied it as a lover’s gift back when he still let himself believe such nonsense. Silver for monsters. It had been one of the things left in Geralt’s pack when Jaskier fled the mountain top.

“Why do you have this?” He croaks out, swallowing against the tightness in his throat before trying again. “Why would you keep this?” He tries to push it back into Geralt’s hand but the Witcher refuses.

“It was a gift, freely given. It belongs to you.” Geralt closes the distance between them again, gaze earnest and utterly heartbreaking in its sincerity. Fool us once shame on him, fool us a hundred thousand times? By then you do not play a fool, you are one. A weak, sad, fool who falls for the same trick every time.  

“You- you can’t do this again. Geralt, I won’t do this again.” Because suddenly he’s drowning in it, in the warm glow of Geralt’s undivided attention and it burns inside. And maybe it’s a good burn but all the good is drowned out by the anger-sadness-confusion-desperation playing in his chest.

“Do what?”

“This.” He gestures wildly between the two of them. “This thing you do when she rejects you and you come to me so I can sing your praises and make you feel cared for, which I’ll do because I am an absolute glutton for punishment and unavailable men, but it’s just until you get sick of me or she calls for you.” Jaskier turns his back, burying his head in Roach’s neck to avoid the struck look on Geralt’s face. “It’s- it’s not fair , Geralt. It’s just not fair. And I can’t do it again.”

It’s a long time before either man speaks. Jaskier can feel the warmth of Geralt at his back, but keeps his head planted firmly against Roach. Finally, he feels Geralt reach out and skim his spine with soft knuckles. Then, hands on his waist, softly pulling him back from the horse and turning him against a firm chest. He tucks his face against Geralt’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent and hating himself for how safe it feels. Geralt’s arms wrap around him, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other circled around his waist. He’s never been held with such reverence and it takes his breath away.

“Not again, Jask. I promise.” It’s words rumbled from the mouth by his ear, and it sends a shiver down his spine. “I promise this time will be different.” Geralt says with such conviction, Jaskier almost believes him. Almost.

-

@geralt-struggling-love asked to be tagged

part one part two part three and the full story is on ao3 here

[itsclydebitches]

Title: Mightier Than the Sword (Chapter Four)

Fandom: Witcher

Summary: A month after the events of “Rare Species,” Geralt slinks his way into an inn and is faced with the question of how an emotionless man apologies. (TV!canon with some details drawn from the books and Wild Hunt.)

Pairing: Slow burn Geralt and Jaskier

Word Count (This Chapter): 2,486

Where to read it: Below or on AO3

“See?” Jaskier said. “This is why I must... revise our adventures, so to speak. No one would ever believe me if I told them the truth.”

He was gesturing to the two men kneeling in a patch of wet leaves, both heads bent to expose their necks, a common act of submission in these parts of Temeria. The elder of the two snuck out a hand to wrap around the wrist of his companion.

“Please don’t hurt us, Master Witcher,” he said, no longer boasting the confident tone of a man who thought himself king of the wood. “Me and my son were just lookin’ for some supper. That’s it. I swear it to you. We didn’t mean to interrupt you an’ your... ah...”

Jaskier leaned close, his shirt just a hair’s breadth from Geralt’s armor. “Ohhh yes, please finish that sentence. What do you think I am? I’m not his ‘friend’ as I fear we’ve already butted heads like rams over that one. Not his ‘bard’ either as I’m far more than just some tawdry performer. Your ‘companion,’ perhaps? Eh, makes me sound like some sort of escort.”

With a sigh Geralt sheathed his sword, watching the men visibly relax. Rather funny that they thought this made him less dangerous. “He’s my curse.”

“Oh! Curse? Thanks. Thanks ever so much for that. I’ll just toss ‘He’s my curse’ next to ‘Filling-less pie.’ In fact, I should start a list. The many insults of Geralt of Rivia. Provide enough of them and I might just get a song out of it. Go on then. Anything else to add? My quill awaits.”

Geralt didn’t consider himself particularly skilled at reading people. Not unless he sought the signs of murder and betrayal. Yet in that moment he would have bet Roach that Jaskier was... teasing him. Just something about the hands on his hips and the hint of a smile. He knew now that Jaskier went quiet when he was hurt, as Geralt had witnessed just moments before. This performance didn’t compare to the tiny ‘How?’ he’d spoken, head dipped down towards his knees.

So Geralt attempted... something. Another apology maybe.

“I’m done for now,” he said, trying for the tone that he sometimes heard long-suffering wives using to discuss their husbands. Some of it must have gotten through because Jaskier rolled his eyes heavenward, ‘for now’ muttered on the tip of his tongue.

Meanwhile, the man had gathered courage enough to lift his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You... won’t be attackin’ me an’ my boy?”

No, of course they wouldn’t. Over the remains of yesterday’s breakfast Jaskier, never one to give up an opportunity for storytelling, explained that they’d initially feared them. His dear witcher only drew his sword as a precaution, not a warning, and there had never been a reason to kneel like that, so sorry about your trousers. Funny though it was. Now then, what brings you two this far out for a bit of dinner?

“Game’s scarce nowadays,” Yoven said, tearing into the meat of a small bird. He’d likewise introduced his son, Lin, a quiet boy more interested in his boots than the conversation. He ate his own fill when it was handed to him though and kept one shoulder pressed to his father’s at all times. “Need to keep headin’ deeper. Every fortnight it seems. Don’t know what we’re gonna do when the snows hit.”

Geralt felt the same. He’d wanted something substantial for the two of them, especially with winter on the horizon, but he’d had to settle for those warblers and the occasional grub. Jaskier had expressed his displeasure—quite vocally—at Geralt eating whatever he came across in the soil, but what was taste to a witcher? It was an easy source of protein they couldn’t afford to pass up, not now that the nights were growing longer and the air crisper with each passing breath. Soon all but the monsters would be in hibernation and Geralt didn’t think Jaskier could stomach a Nekker heart if he wasn’t willing to eat a measly worm.

It was a problem he hadn’t thought about when Jaskier had first joined him, not when the weather was kind and the chance of him staying past the next town nothing but a well-hidden fantasy. Now, with Fall nearing its end and this unspoken agreement between them, questions of a practical nature had begun to surface. How would he feed them? Would Jaskier survive the cold? Geralt tried to remember everything he’d learned about human physiology and how it compared to a witcher’s. How long could Jaskier go without fresh water? Surely not the two weeks Geralt could manage. Some night when food was once again scarce and he was weary from battle, would he remember that risom berries were fatal to everyone else, or would Geralt mistakenly offer him a handful of poison? How long could a human travel before exhaustion took hold? If he were injured what salves were safe to use? Would Jaskier even tell him these things, or would he insist it was all fine up until he collapsed? It hadn’t been terribly long since that day at the swamp, but with each passing moment Geralt grew more and more consumed by the same realization: humans were not meant to walk the Path.

Yet here Jaskier sat, creating a mirror to Lin and Yoven. The only difference was the absence of touch and Geralt suddenly had the strong urge to press their shoulders together, completing the picture.

If he were humble, Geralt would lead them to the next prosperous settlement and ask Jaskier to sing. Drum up some of the coin he could clearly earn and share it with him, securing their survival.

If he was smart he’d lead them both to Kaer Morhen for the winter, where food and protection were plenty and he needn’t fear a sudden shift in their host’s hospitality. However, the thought of bringing Jaskier to a witcher’s fortress...

If he were both, Geralt would simply leave the bard behind.

All these thoughts passed through him in a moment, following the tail of Jaskier’s expression as he watched Yoven devour cold, congealing meat. A mere second to assess the situation as he would a battle. Then the conversation continued.

Yoven explained that they were from another small town just three miles from here, one of Temeria’s many. Indistinguishable unless you considered that they specialized in building and exporting wagons as opposed to fish, herbs, nets, weapons, boots--whatever else one might need to continue with a war. Or life. It amounted to much the same. Does your town have a name? Jaskier asked. Not unless you count the profanity with which most referred to it. Are you and your witcher heading somewhere in particular? Not really. Wherever we’re needed, and Jaskier ended his comment with a little laugh. As if the concept of anyone needing him was a joke in and of itself.

Geralt, meanwhile, was watching the boy.

“You’ve something to say,” he announced, startling all three. Indeed, it was an easy enough conclusion, even without Lin’s guilty look. Geralt may not have had Jaskier’s talent for small talk, but he could always tell when someone held something back. His livelihood depended on it.

“Well? You can speak freely. We don’t bite,” and Geralt bared his teeth, ignoring the glare Jaskier shot at him.

“We really don’t,” he insisted.

It was Yoven who opened his mouth though. He must have been at least fifty years old, judging by the white in his beard. A substantial age for a human and, like the confident tone they’d first heard at his approach, Yoven was clearly used to commanding respect among his peers. He was halfway through insisting that no, his boy just had that air about him, when Lin finally looked up from his boots with,

“They can help.”

Three words in a mouse’s voice, but ones Geralt knew well. He leaned forward. Help meant trouble. Trouble meant coin. And coin meant he could give Jaskier something other than the soft bones of a bird to eat.

Yoven scowled. “There’s nothin’ to help with.”

“There is! Talden said—”

“Talden? ‘Don’t know how that mug got broke’ Talden? ‘I swear them chickens just ran off’ Talden? That Talden? You’d believe your own arse grew outta your nose if Talden told you so.”

“Lovely image,” Jaskier murmured.

Hmm. Perhaps a fool’s errand then. Or a case of a child crying werewolf. It wouldn’t be the first time some mischievous youngster had been scoffed at when they reported a sighting, only for folk to find them torn to pieces the next morn’, their lying punished too harshly. Only sure way to know was to get details, so Geralt eased himself off the log and knelt before Lin. No more attempts to frighten. Rather, he pulled in his shoulders to appear smaller than he was, kept his hands where Lin could see them, and allowed white hair to partially curtain his face, hiding a bit of the sallow skin and inhuman eyes. It wasn’t much, but Geralt had learned over the decades that even the smallest bit might help. Lives had been lost and saved on far less.

It was one of the reasons why he didn’t believe in destiny. Or, if she were real, why she must also be cruel. Only someone with ice in their heart would wager so much on whether another thought him decent to look upon.

Or simply thought of him at all.

“Talden,” Geralt said, trying to smooth out the rough edge in his voice. He didn’t succeed. “This a friend of yours?”

Lin nodded.

“He saw something? Something that scared him?”

“Heard it,” Lin said, snaking out a hand to grab hold of his father’s shirt. The older man allowed it with a sigh, gesturing for him to go on. It was only then that Geralt realized the child was far younger than he’d first assumed. Almost too young to be out in these woods. Especially if something stalked them.

Lin took a swallow of the water Jaskier offered before going on. “He heard somethin', Master Witcher. Just a few nights back. See, Laren’s our neighbor. Talden’s neighbor too. We all live close, so we all heard when she came screamin’ in the morn about her sister. She was gone. Vanished during the night. Old Roger said she’d run off with a boy from the town over, but Laren says there was no boy. No runnin’ off then either. And Talden told me he heard things a few hours before dawn. Monster things,” and he went back to chugging the water, whispering that last bit.

Geralt tilted his head. “Did Talden say what kind of ‘monster things’? What sounds precisely?”

“No, Master Witcher sir. I didn’t wanna know. Plugged my ears and kicked his shin for scarin’ me.”

Jaskier snorted. "A well landed blow.”

“It’s as I said.” Yoven picked up the thread. “I didn’ want my boy botherin’ you with this because there’s no ‘this’ to be bothered with. Laren and Sage moved here not a year ago. Real secretive girls. Kept to themselves and expected the rest of us to do the same. Old Roger—one of the elders, y’see. I’m set to take his place in a few years—tried to welcome them, but found both to be a prickly pair. Always goin’ off on their own. Not sayin’ where they went or when they’d return. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sage did have a little tryst going, sneakin’ away if her sis didn’t approve. They’re both young enough for such foolishness. But then comes Talden makin’ wild claims about hearin’ monsters during the night, only after the lass was revealed to be missing, mind. He was after attention, Master Witcher. Nothin’ more.”

But Lin shook his head. “Talden wouldn’t lie.” He withered under his father’s look. “He wouldn’t lie about that. He knows how monsters scare me. I, um... apologized after. For kickin’ him.”

Geralt stood. “And Talden didn’t change his story after your apology?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Anyone look for the woman? Tracks? Speak to the folk in the town over? Surely they’d notice if one of their young men had gone missing around the same time.”

Yoven sucked the last of the marrow from his bird and shrugged. “We’re carpenters, not trackers. If we were I might have better luck findin’ meat for us both. As for the town,” Yoven stuck out a finger and proceeded to swing it in an arc. “Which one? We’ve got any number of small towns in these parts, some more earning of the name than others. But it would take days to travel and talk to ‘em all. No one does that for a woman not wantin’ to be found.”

Geralt cursed.

All of little help then. Which was he to believe, the logic of flighty women and trickster boys, or the witcher's experience that told him sometimes folk really did disappear from their beds? For any other witcher the answer was easy. One look at Yoven's clothes and Lin’s greedy bites told the story of poverty. Even if Geralt returned victorious with a beast’s head in his hands, the chances of receiving any substantial reward were slim. Perhaps enough for one meal, maybe two, but was that worth the trouble it would take to receive them?

Of course, there were benefits to being an abnormal witcher. He needn’t decide things on his own, for one.

“Well?” Geralt said. Jaskier blinked stupidly up at him.

“Huh?”

“Should we look into it?”

“...You’re asking me?”

Yes. He was. Geralt felt the burn on his hand and the bruises in his chest. Day-old words flit across his mind like birds. “I just want your opinion.”

The smile was instantaneous. Blinding too. Jaskier went so far as to slap his knee, bursting into joyous laughter when Geralt rolled his eyes. He had his fun for a moment, then grew somber. A single nod and Geralt was already moving to collect his things.

“Yes. We should at least look into it. I’d never forgive myself if we left some poor maiden in peril. Plus, think of what a story it will make! A tale of intrigue and mystery, clandestine meetings and sibling love. That’s grown quite popular, you know.”

“Then pack up your things, Bard. It will be night soon.”

“Poet, Geralt. Poet.” But Jaskier dutifully bent to collect his papers, pressing each carefully between the pages of his notebook or rolling them up with string. Geralt made sure that none had escaped his notice, then took up Roach’s reins. She stamped a few times, impatient to be off.

Yoven was staring, mouth agape so that the rot on his back teeth showed. “You’re coming?”

“We’re coming,” Geralt confirmed and started off, now three sets of footsteps following behind him.

He only listened for the one.

[violaswimmer]

Apologies - A Witcher Fanfic

Jaskier, having been told to never appear in front of Geralt of Rivia again, tries to distract himself from losing a decade long friendship. But as Jaskier vows to avoid Geralt as he requested, destiny has other plans.

"You can't keep doing this, Jaskier." Calpurnia said for the third time that week. Or was it the fourth? It was hard to keep track after so many ales. 

Jaskier nursed his fifth ale as he stared past Calpurnia's left ear. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't look into her eyes, she had far too many of them. Her green eyes danced away from his vision as her duplicates swirled around her. Her curly brown hair blended in with her pale complexion which was covered in freckles. Her white shirt left little to the imagination, not that Jaskier complained, she liked to look that way and he liked to look.

"I can do whatever I please, Callie." Jaskier stated and he hoped it sounded more convincing but was surely slurred. The look on Calpurnia's face suggested the latter. Especially realizing that he had said that to her chest. Calpurnia snorted at him as she tried to hide a laugh behind her hand. 

Jaskier went to roll his eyes but it caused the world to spin too much and he promptly laid his head on to his arm to make it stop. Normally Jaskier could hold his liquor better than men twice his size, despite his small stature. Years of drinking can give you that kind of ability (whether impressive or sad, that's up to you) but drinking pretty much nothing but ale for a week was causing some ill desired consequences. He groaned into his arm, the ale left the most terrible sour taste in his mouth. 

Calpurnia, bless her, placed a comforting hand on his back, rubbing it up and down. It made the world a bit more solid and a bit more gentle. 

"Come now, my dear and very drunk bard. Let me help you to your room." She said gently, already placing her arms around him to help him stand. 

Jaskier did his best to stand but noticed he wasn't doing a great job as Calpurnia kept a very steady grip around his shoulders. She had always been the strong one between the two of them so it wasn’t really a problem. The world could be very cruel to women, but Calpurnia refused to let it be cruel to her, her strength went far beyond the physical and Jaskier knew that well. 

The two of them made their way through the bar to a small set of stairs. The tavern was noticeably less full now, as it was quite early in the morning. The stairs were considerably more difficult as Jaskier’s spinning head did no favors to navigate them. Calpurnia made up for the lack of mobile ability but accidentally jammed one of Jaskier’s toes which he couldn’t feel anyway.

“Oops.” Calpurnia hissed, “Up you go.” She continued, guiding Jaskier up the final step as they entered the small, cramped hallway of the inn. 

Calpurnia fished through Jaskier’s jack pocket as he did his best not to fall over, retrieving the key to his room and unlocking it. She hefted his weight across the small chamber, the back of his knees hitting that bed as his body suddenly became horizontal which caused his stomach to protest quite violently. He had not laid down for more than a couple of seconds before he surged into a sitting position. Calpurnia shiftly produced the chamber pot which he promptly vomited into. Well there goes his dinner. 

After Jaskier’s stomach finally stopped it’s dry heaving, he sat back against the headboard with a moan. Calpurnia placed some pillows behind him and brushed some hair from his forehead, her touch was soothing and he leaned into it.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. She continued to gently pet his hair. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, we all have our moments.” She assured.

“Not a weeks worth, not a months worth. I’m a mess.” Jaskier sighed, opening his eyes to look at her. 

She still spun, but her green eyes were in focus. He loved her eyes, like grass in the height of summer with little flecks of gold in the center. He loved her little freckles too, like little stars across her skin. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman Jaskier had met. She had too many muscles, too many scars, her hair was never brushed, her lips a bit too small and her nose a bit too big. But she was beautiful, sincere, kind and strong in ways that Jaskier rarely saw in others. 

“You’ve been hurt, you’re in pain, it’s a normal reaction considering the circumstances.” She reasoned.

“Right, having a man tell me to fuck off is enough reason for this behavior. I’m acting like a spoiled child…” He complained, pushing himself into a better sitting position. Calpurnia’s hand hovered a moment before dropping back into her lap. She eyebrows furrowed together.

“It wasn’t nothing Jaskier! You and Geralt have been friends for over a decade, you two were very close…” She reasoned.

“He didn’t think that, apparently.” Jaskier grumbled.

“You were! You always said that Geralt wasn’t good with his words. It would stand to reason that he would be bad at navigating relationships too.” Calpurnia continued, her hand reached out and grabbed Jaskier’s hand and held it lightly. 

“I don’t think he meant what he said. But either way what he said to you was wrong. You didn’t just cause him grief Jaskier, you aren’t to blame for the things that cause him plight.” She reasoned. 

Jaskier looked at their hands. Calpurnia was good at this bit, comforting people, reasoning with them when they were being unreasonable. She hadn’t always been, and he had done his fair share of comforting her in the past. Part of him wanted to give into the fantasy that Geralt would come to him one day and say he was sorry, that it was all a mistake. But she didn’t know the White Wolf, or the way he had looked at Jaskier that day. 

If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!

Even though it had been so long, a month almost, the words still stung every bit as when they were first said. Jaskier really had thought all this time that Geralt viewed him as a friend, but perhaps he only saw him as a nuisance. Perhaps Jaskier was the one who was mistaken. 

Jaskier smiled sadly as his vision got a bit too hazy, don’t cry! Calpurnia squeezed his hand.

“I wish that were true, Callie. I really do. But I think maybe I was mistaken. Maybe I thought we were friends, or companions or whatever you want to call it. I thought we were and apparently we weren’t.” He confessed softly, his voice a little shaky. 

“Oh Dandelion, I’m sorry.” Calpurnia whispered.

There was a pause as Jaskier registered what she said. He snorted, wiping his nose and looked at Calpurnia’s face who grinned. 

“Here I am, vulnerable, broken, depressed and you pull out that horrendous nickname! Ugh can we stop? It was one time!” Jaskier begged.

“One time is enough, my flower. I can’t believe you thought that eating a whole bucket would make your skin better.” She said with a laugh.

“Hey! There are benefits to dandelions in skin care! I was a teenager and desperate!” Jaskier protested.

“Yes when you put them in an oil. But when you eat them they are a laxative.” Calpurnia clarified, “You were chained to the privy for days it was all the temple talked about for weeks!” She giggled.

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, or say a joke about how he probably lost five pounds due to the incident but Calpurnia continued to giggle and he ended up just watching her with a smile. When she gained control of herself she smiled at him too.

“It’s okay, whether or not it was a funny incident, I think dandelions suit you. They’re a bright yellow like the sun, and when their time is done their seeds are spread through the wind. Much like your stories, they live on and never truly die.” Calpurnia said, giving his hand a squeeze. 

And that of course caused his tears to return. 

“Seeds? I thought instead of stories you were going to talk about all my illegitimate children.” Jaskier laughed, though it was undermined by the tears going down his face.

Calpurnia snorted and smiled sadly as she wiped one of them away. 

“Alright, enough of that. Time to sleep, I’ll send up some water for you.” She said, pushing him onto the bed and promptly taking off his booths to tuck him in. She placed a kiss on his forehead, it reminded him of what a mother would do. His never did, but this was better.

“I love you, you know. I don’t know how you put up with me.” Jaskier said as she still leaned over him. She kneeled next to him for a moment to look him in the eyes and smiled. 

“I don’t put up with you, Jaskier. I love you, and I always will. Now, sleep, my flower.” She whispered. She brought the blanket up to his chin, blew out the candle on the nightstand and left the room. 

Jaskier closed his eyes, and for once his mind was not filled with Geralt’s voice but rather Calpurnia’s laughter. Even if he couldn’t see Geralt of Rivia again, at least he had Calpurnia and that was enough for him.

________________________________________________________________

When Geralt entered the tavern, it was approaching noon. He and Ciri were in desperate need of supplies, the journey to Kaer Morhen was long and the two of them needed to stock up before the rest of the journey there. Geralt came into the tavern with Ciri in tow, it was a dank place of wood and stone. A few patrons here and there, some of them stared, some of them didn’t. 

Geralt sat the two of them at a table, finishing out some coin. It had been awhile since he took a job, the coin would be enough for supplies but he wasn’t sure if he had enough to get a room for the night. He looked at Ciri with her new brown cloak, replacing the tattered blue one she had been traveling in before. She looked cold and exhausted, like she could really use a bed before they only camped for weeks. Geralt considered the options as two plates of food were placed in front of himself and Ciri. 

A woman with curly brown hair, light green eyes and freckled pale skin stood before them with a smile. She wore no armor, or so it appeared. But her corset was reinforced with hardened, studded leather, her pants had similar qualities. She carried two daggers and a long sword at her side. Notably, one of the daggers she carried was made of silver. Interesting, Geralt thought.

“We didn’t order this.” Geralt said. 

“I know.” The woman replied, pushing the plates to the two of them. Geralt halted Ciri’s eager hand as she went for the spoon.

“Ah, suspicious I see. Here, allow me then.” The woman said, reaching for the spoon in Ciri’s bowl, taking a taste of the beef stew in it. She swallowed, and seemed to be fine. She did the same with Geralt’s. She then gestured to the two of them, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. Ciri looked at Geralt and once he nodded, dug into her food. 

Geralt on the other hand, didn’t proceed as eagerly, though he had a bite or two. The woman remained seated, watching them.

“And who am I to thank for a free meal?” Geralt asked.

“Calpurnia.” She answered simply, “Though it is hardly free.” Calpurnia clarified. Geralt smiled ruefully.

“It rarely is.” He replied. 

Calpurnia smiled as well, on closer inspection of her, Geralt noticed that she had an air of confidence. It wasn’t undeserved, even her long sleeves couldn’t hide the fact that she was well built. Her outfit and weapons were subtle enough that people would overlook her; yet they looked well used which suggested that she was not an opponent you would want in a fight.

“I’m here to ask for your help. You are Geralt of Rivia, yes?” She said.

“I’m not currently taking jobs.” Geralt clarified. She continued like he hadn’t spoken.

“It’s about a bard you were once traveling with…” She continued.

“I am not traveling with Jaskier anymore.” Geralt said. 

“For a witcher you’re quite chatty. Do you intend to continue to interrupt me? Or am I allowed to speak?” Calpurnia said sharply, like a mother scolding her son. There was a pause. Even Ciri stopped eating for a moment. Geralt pressed his lips into a hard line before grinding out.

“Please. Continue.” He growled. 

“Thank you.” She said with a smile before continuing, “Like I said, I’m here to speak to you about Jaskier. I’m a friend of his, and he’s in a bad way at the moment.” She said.

Geralt looked at her sharply.

“Is he hurt?” He asked, his voice not as calm as he would have hoped. Calpurnia shook her head.

“No, he’s fine. Well not exactly fine, he’s probably very hung-over.” Calpurnia said.

Geralt relaxed, and Calpurnia seemed to study his reaction. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to look nonchalant. 

“Well then he seems fine.” Geralt said, looking at the table instead of the woman across from him.

“Fine is a relative term. He’s been drinking himself to death since a certain someone said some choice words to him a month ago.” Calpurnia said sharply. 

Geralt’s eye twitched at her tone, it was angry with a hint of venom. This Calpurnia seemed to care for Jaskier very much, enough to confront a witcher she doesn’t know. 

“And what is it exactly that you want me to do about it? I’m a bit busy at the moment.” Geralt said, gesturing to Ciri next to him who was now cleaning her plate with a hard piece of bread.

Calpurnia bristled and leaned across the table, her green eyes grabbing his attention as they were lit on fire. 

“Listen here, Geralt of Rivia, you clearly care about Jaskier. That much was obvious when you thought he was injured and everytime I say his name you get a pained expression on your face. Now you aren’t the first witcher I’ve met, and you won’t be the last. I know perfectly well that witchers aren't stone cold monsters that people think they are. You feel just as much as everyone else, what you lack is a way to control it. So you hide behind a stone face and a cold exterior until all those feelings build up and explode at the first person you see when you’re hurt. This time it was Jaskier.” Calpurnia spat, her voice was low.

Ciri’s eyes were large orbs as she watched this woman, considerably smaller than Geralt give him a talking to. Geralt bit the inside of his mouth as he felt his own anger rise. But none of what she said was wrong, so he remained silent. 

“Now,” Calpurnia said, leaning back from the table, “What I want you to do is sit here and wait for poor hung over Jaskier to make his appearance.” She said, taking a swig of her ale. 

“He’s here?” Geralt asked quietly. 

“Yes, sleeping it off upstairs. Stay here, I’ll pay for as much food and drink as you and your companion would like. Just stay here, and talk to him when he comes down.” Calpurnia commanded.

“What… what if he doesn’t want to talk to me?” Geralt muttered. 

Calpurnia looked at him for a moment and smiled sadly. 

“Oh Geralt, Jaskier isn’t the type to be angry at you.” She said softly, “When a relationship falls apart, Jaskier always assumes he’s the one at fault. Even if he isn’t. Just wait for him, please.” She begged softly. 

Geralt looked at her and nodded. She smiled and stood going to the bar and placing down some coin. He heard her say that she’ll pay for whatever the two of them wanted before she left the establishment. Geralt watched her go, feeling strange, nervous and shocked at the conversation he had just had with a complete stranger. He was only pulled back into reality when Ciri tapped his arm. 

“Are you going to eat that?” She asked sincerely as she pointed to his food. 

He thought it over for a moment. 

“No.” He said, pushing the now lukewarm plate over to her. She ate it eagerly, though Geralt didn’t notice her, keeping a close eye on his pensive face, wondering who this Jaskier was.

________________________________________________________________

It was nearly an hour later when Jaskier finally made his appearance. When Calpurnia said he was in a bad way, she had not been exaggerating. His brown hair, which he normally kept clean and styled was a mess, sticking to his forehead in places and standing straight up in others. He was normally pale but seemed almost translucent in the early afternoon light which emphasized his unshaved face. He had dark circles under his eyes as they squinted in the general direction of the bar. His clothes were rumpled, and to Geralt’s surprise he was still wearing the red outfit he had seen him in last. Jaskier had more clothing changes than Geralt had horses, which was saying something. So to see him in the same outfit a month later was as concerning as the rest of his appearance. 

Jaskier walked to the bar, taking no notice of Geralt, sitting down as he requested a drink and some food. He laid his head against his arms as he waited. Geralt swallowed, turning to Ciri who held a cup of water between her hands.

“I’ll be right back.” He said. Ciri nodded and watched him go to Jaskier at the bar.

He stepped up behind him, Jaskier was quiet and unmoving. Geralt cleared his throat. Jaskier sighed, raising his head.

“Look, I’m hungover, I’ll sing for you in the ev-” Jaskier’s voice cut off in the middle of his sentence as he focused on Geralt’s face. There was a moment of complete silence between the two of them as they just stared at each other.

“Geralt.” Jaskier whispered. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt said, unsure of how to continue this conversation.

“I-I’m sorry, I should go and leave you to whatever business you have here.” Jaskier said quickly, standing quite abruptly.

“What?” Geralt said, “Wait, Jaskier.” Geralt begged as Jaskier continued towards the stairs, although he paused a moment.

“You made it quite clear that I was never to show myself to you again.” Jaskier clarified, continuing up a step, “I’ll just gather my things and leave you to- Shit!” He cried as he stubbed the same toe on the same step as last night. He really felt it this time. He placed a hand on the railing as he bent over his foot in a bit too much pain to move. 

Geralt hastily crossed the room so he was at the bottom of the stairs. 

“I- are you alright?” He asked.

“Yeah I’m fine, just give me a moment.” Jaskier sighed. There was a pause as Jaskier straightened but before he could continue up the steps Geralt spoke.

“I came to talk to you.” Geralt admitted, “I came to apologize.” He said softly. 

For several seconds there was silence, just Geralt staring at Jaskier’s back as he said nothing. Suddenly he turned around, looking at Geralt with a strange expression on his face. 

“Really?” Jaskier asked. 

“Really.” Geralt said, scratching his neck, “Would you like to join us? We can talk over there.” Geralt said, pointing to the table were Ciri sat. She waved. 

“Us?” Jaskier asked, looking at Ciri and whispered, “Is that the child of surprise?!” He hissed. 

“Yes!” Geralt hissed back, “Just, will you come please?” Geralt asked. 

“I- Um, yes. Please, lets.” Jaskier said, trying to regain his composure. The two of them went to the table and sat, Jaskier smiling at Ciri as he took the place that Calpurnia had sat not long ago. 

“Hello.” Jaskier greeted. 

“Hello, I’m um, Fiona.” Ciri said with a small smile of her own. 

Jaskier raised a brow at Geralt who gave a shrug as if to say, just go with it.

“Hello, Fiona. I’m Jaskier, it’s good to meet you.” He said sincerely, glad that she was with Geralt and not dead in Cintra as he had feared when he had heard of the fall. 

“Same to you.” She answered, taking a drink from her water glass. 

There was a pause until Geralt cleared his throat. 

“So um- I wanted to say that I was sorry for the things I said to you on the mountain. I didn’t mean it, I was frustrated and upset that Yennefer left and you were the first person I saw. So I just, let all my frustration out on you.” Geralt said, “But either way, it wasn’t right. I should have found you sooner to properly apologize, but I had to see to Fiona’s safety.” He clarified. Jaskier nodded.

“I understand, I mean it wasn’t like what you said wasn’t entirely valid. I had dragged you to that banquet and interrupted your djinn quest…” Jaskier said with a sigh.

“It doesn’t make what I said right. You didn’t cause what happened after, to happen. That was all my own decision, I was the one who invoked the Law of Surprise. It was I who made the wish, you did none of those things. It was wrong of me to blame you for it. I’m sorry.” Geralt said sincerely if sounding a bit unsure. It had been a long time since Geralt of Rivia apologized for anything.

Jaskier was silent for a moment before he smiled.

“I accept your apology.” He said. Geralt’s shoulders visibly sagged as the tension rushed out of him, he too smiled at his old friend. 

“How did you end up finding me anyway?” Jaskier asked, as the food he was ordered was placed in front of him as well as his drink. He thanked the barmaid as she left.

“I didn’t, we stopped for supplies and came into the inn for a meal when your friend Calpurnia approached us.” Geralt said, raising his hand at the barmaid and pointing to Jaskier’s plate. She nodded and returned to the kitchen to fetch Geralt some food as well.

“Calpurnia was here?” Jaskier asked between bites, “I thought she had already left for the day…” He wondered. 

“Yes, she said she’d pay for our food and drink if I agreed to wait for you and talk to you. I thought you’d be angry with me as well, so I hesitated to speak with you. Calpurnia convinced me otherwise. She left not an hour before you came down.” Geralt said, taking a swig from his drink.

Jaskier laughed.

“That does sound like her, I hope she didn’t leave town today. I should thank her before she leaves again.” He mused, continuing to eat. 

Geralt watched him a moment before he spoke, curiosity getting the better of him.

“You know her well, right? She mentioned I wasn’t the first witcher she’s met, she also carried a silver dagger.” Geralt asked. 

Jaskier smirked at him between bites.

“I thought Yennefer was your one true love?” Jaskier teased. Geralt glared at him, “Alright! I’m just kidding.” He laughed as he took another bite before continuing. 

“Calpurnia and I went to temple school together, she and I became fast friends. We parted when we graduated, I went on to University and she traveled for awhile. As I understand it, she met a witcher in her travels. The two of them were quite close and he gave her the dagger. Eventually they had to go their separate ways, but he promised to meet her again after a job in Temeria. He never returned.” Jaskier said sadly, “I was there with her, we met up in a tavern like this one. She waited and waited, for weeks. He never showed up. She was heartbroken. I think his name was Remus.” Jaskier finished. 

Remus, Temeria, Geralt thought before he remembered. The witcher who took the coin for the striga, Princess Adda and never came back. The one that Triss spread the rumor that he had ran off with the coin. Geralt closed his eyes briefly, feeling for Calpurnia in a way he wouldn’t have understood unless he was experiencing it himself. Yennefer was still missing, and it tore him to pieces. He couldn’t imagine going years without knowing what had happened to someone you cared about. When he opened them again Jaskier continued. 

“After that we traveled together, I tried to keep her mind off of it. We separated when I found you again. Honestly when I don’t travel with you, I’m traveling with her. She’s good company.” Jaskier said with a smile. 

As if destiny was playing a funny game, the door opened and Calpurnia stepped in. The tavern had a few more patrons present so it took a moment before she spotted the two of them, Jaskier waving her over. She grinned upon seeing them at the same table and made her way over quickly to meet them. 

“I hope everything is well?” Calpurnia said, eyeing Geralt. 

“Why yes it is!” Jaskier exclaimed, “I hear you have something to do with that?” He asked. 

“Nonsense, I just simply pointed Geralt in the right direction.” Calpurnia said with a smile. 

Geralt snorted, taking a swig of his drink. 

“I’ll need to repay you for the food.” Geralt said.

“No need, it’s a gift from a friend.” Calpurnia said. Geralt paused at the sentiment, but saw a genuine look in Calpurnia’s eyes. Jaskier watched the two of them as Geralt rummaged through his sack. 

“Then maybe this will do.” He said, producing the wolf medallion of Remus. He was going to return it to Kaer Morhen but perhaps it was meant to go to someone else. 

Calpurnia stared at the medallion, taking a rather rough seat on a stool by the table. Jaskier watched as a single tear came down her face.

“Callie?” He asked with concern.

She didn’t answer but reached out for the medallion as Geralt placed it into her open palms. 

“Where did you get this?” She whispered turning it over in her hands. Each medallion was nearly identical except for the back, which had carved into it the chosen name of the witcher. Calpurnia traced Remus’s name with her finger. 

“Temeria. I’m sorry to say that he died trying to save some workers from a striga. Though he didn’t know it was a striga at the time.” He paused, “Jaskier told me about Remus when I asked why you carried a silver dagger. When he mentioned it, I remembered that I still had the medallion. It’s yours. I’m sure he would want you to have it.” Geralt said softly. 

She pressed it between her palms, and held it over her heart. 

“Thank you. I never thought I would see it again. I never thought I would hear what had happened to him. So, thank you.” She said, green eyes glassy. She scrubbed her eyes and face with the back of her sleeve and smiled sincerely. She took the medallion and wore it, placing it underneath her shirt just over her heart. 

Geralt smiled at her as well, and Jaskier watched with a smile. There was a moment of silence before it was Ciri who spoke.

“I’m sorry Miss Calpurnia, but if you feel up to it… I’d love to hear how you and Remus met. Geralt never tells me about his work as a witcher.” She said. 

Jaskier looked like he was about to say something when Calpurnia interrupted. 

“I would love to tell you, Miss?” Calpurnia asked.

“Fiona.” Ciri answered

“Fiona, Remus and I met in a small village. He was a dark haired, handsome witcher with a gruff personality and a smoking pipe. And I was young and completely smittened. Earlier that week, a terrible monster had attacked the village. It liked to hunt things and seemed to be hunting a specific person. That person was me. You see I had been in the woods…” Calpurnia began, her tale spun of just enough imagination to make it exciting but enough truth to be believed, a skill she no doubt picked up from Jaskier. 

Food was brought for Geralt, and drinks were had. Jaskier watched Calpurnia as she told the tale to young Ciri, a tale he had never heard before. When Remus had disappeared so had his story, Calpurnia refused to speak of him, his disappearance too painful. But with the mystery solved, it seemed like Calpurnia couldn’t tell his story fast enough. Jaskier’s eyes were drawn to Geralt as he watched Ciri, who was enthralled by the story. He had a soft smile on his face, which he gave to Jaskier when he noticed him staring at him. Jaskier smiled back. 

He could make a ballad out of this. 

    - FIN -

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Get Down pt 1

oops it’s mildly horny. I guess I’m in a mood?

Based on the song “Get Down” from the hit musical SIX

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Geralt’s eyes went wide when he entered the throne room of the Castle de Lettenhove. He’d remembered the name vaguely; that was probably why he’d showed up at the front door in search of a contract. Now, staring down the length of the impressively decorated stone chamber, he remembered why the name was so godsdamned familiar.

He’d been listening to the same high, clear tenor introducing his best friend for nearly ten years now. He remembered the name his favorite person on the Continent used when he wanted to sound impressive or get free room and board: “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.” 

Fuck. Of course it was Jaskier’s manor house. Of course it was Jaskier’s lovely red carpet that Geralt was tracking dirt all over. Of course it was Jaskier’s father he’d have to beg for the opportunity to hunt monsters for less than sufficient coin. He kept his eyes respectively averted as he approached the throne and knelt, head bowed. 

“My Lord Pankratz,” he rumbled, “I’ve come in search of a contract or perhaps one night of hospitality in return for menial labor.”

“Well met, Sir Witcher.”

Fuck. The Witcher glanced up and somehow managed to keep his eyes from widening in shock for a second time in five minutes. “Milord Pankratz.”

Jaskier took a steadying breath as Geralt looked him over. The part-time bard was glad he’d dressed to impress today (he’d been expecting a visit from a dignitary who’d never arrived) because Geralt showing up and bowing like a knight errant when Jaskier was at his best was sheer dumb luck. “Sir Witcher,” Jaskier smirked. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

“As I said before,” the Witcher murmured, “I’ve come in search of a contract, or one night of hospitality in return for menial labor.”

“That sounds like a rather practiced speech, Witcher,” Jaskier intoned seriously. He drew himself up to his full height and pulled back his shoulders, shoving out his chest like any good Lord would. Geralt thought the lot of them were posturing idiots. When Jaskier did the same thing, however, the Witcher felt oddly proud and a little reverent. He stayed kneeling far longer than he would have with any other rude nobility. “What work could you do for me that would be worth a room in my house?”

Geralt’s face was aflame and he was glad that his mutations tamped down the majority of his blush. “I could chop firewood or carry water. I can cook a little and I’m good with horses.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier made his way down the steps and walked in a slow circle around the suddenly nervous Witcher. No Lord or Viscount had ever done that to him before. Appraising him with eyes he knew had seen his every high and low. Jaskier was his best friend, after all. He knew what Geralt was capable of; what was the point of this whole charade? “I suppose we can find you a room.”

Jaskier snapped his fingers loudly and clearly and one attendant appeared on either side of him. There was a woman to his left, no older than Jaskier himself, with her head bowed respectfully. On his right side stood a middle aged man with gently greying hair, his hands clasped tightly together and resting against his lower back; he carried the air of a man who never took a step without considering its efficiency and professionalism first. 

“Matilde,” the Lord addressed the young maid. “Please fetch in Geralt’s saddle bags and bring them to the guest suite nearest my own chambers, darling. Send our gentlest stableboy to attend to the Witcher’s horse; she favors an apple or two before bed. Reyard, please measure our weary guest and have him bathed and clothed for dinner, if you would.”

“Yes, Milord,” the two servants bowed quickly and scurried off to attend to their various tasks. The valet darted forward and took Geralt by the elbow. The taller man startled and jerked away, somehow unable to break the valet’s dedicated grip.

“Right this way, Sir Witcher.”

“Wha-?” Geralt glanced up at Jaskier, whose chest was still puffed forward in a subtle show of power. The emerald green velvet of his tight, tailored doublet enhanced the brown of his hair and the blue of his eyes, making him appear even more youthful and angelic than usual. His trousers were impeccably clean and his boots were shiny and black; authority oozed from Jaskier like syrup from a tree. Geralt’s breath caught in his throat for a second time and he gulped. He found himself even more lost for words than usual in the not-bard’s presence.

“In exchange for your room and board tonight,” Jaskier explained, “You shall be my guest at dinner and humor me with several interesting anecdotes in the sitting room after our meal.”

“Y-Yes, Milord,” Geralt agreed. The valet ushered him away, then, leading him down several twisting halls to the young Lord’s private bathing pool. 

“Milord Pankratz has requested that you bathe and wash your hair. He’ll send another servant down shortly to dress and groom you properly for dinner.”

“Uhm...thank you?” Geralt bowed. The valet shook his head and disappeared from the bathing chambers. The Witcher, exhausted and confused beyond all measure, did the only logical thing left to do: he undressed and slipped into the warm, steamy pool of water. He might as well enjoy what little bits of luxury he could.

---

As soon as Geralt was far enough away, Jaskier released a long, slow breath and rested his hands against his knees. “Holy shit.”

“Milord?”

“Reynard! Thank you for doing me this favor.”

“Is this the Witcher you’ve spoken of all these years?”

“Indeed it is,” Jaskier nodded, glancing off in the direction of the baths. “Geralt of Rivia himself has graced my humble halls at last.”

“He seemed confused, Milord.”

“I haven’t introduced myself as Julian Alfred Pankratz for years,” the young Lord chuckled. “He probably forgot that I was called anything but Jaskier.”

“And your intentions?”

“Oh, I fully intend to seduce him, Reynard. Do not mistake my purposes there.”

“Of course,” the valet smirked. He’d practically raised the young nobleman, after all. They were each other’s confidants and friends as much as they were master and servant; Jaskier said goodbye to him privately every time he left to join Geralt on the Path, thanking the older man for all his years of friendship and advice. “Shall we execute the plan, then?”

“As much of it as we still can,” the Lord smiled. “That would be lovely. You’re a dear.”

“I expect that this evening will be more than entertaining, Milord.”

“Knowing Geralt, it certainty will be.”

[yennefer-of-rivia]

The Raven and the Fox

Thank you so much for all your love, dear people!! Here is chapter two. Sharing is caring ^^ 

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2. Revenge is a dish best served sexually

 Yennefer was sitting on the bed in a room in the Kingfisher. She was brushing her raven black hair and was muttering one of her favorite songs. As expected, Geralt didn’t give much protest when she and Triss had cornered him, and told him to come to the Kingfisher that evening. After all, witcher or no witcher, he was still a man. A man who was expecting to have the night of his life.

Yennefer looked at the clock on the wall. Triss was late. Typical Merigold, never capable of being on time, which was a habit she absolutely hated. Just as she was thinking that, she heard a knock on the door. She stood up, placed the hairbrush on the table and walked towards the wooden entry.

Opening the door revealed Triss. Contrary to Yennefer, Triss was wearing her practical travel clothes. “You’re late.” Yennefer said with a cold voice. She was standing in front of the opening, refusing to let the red haired woman enter the room.

“Yes I know, I’m sorry. But there were witch hunters at every corner of the streets. I had to avoid running into them and that took some time. But as far as I can see, Geralt hasn’t arrived yet. So I’m still on time, right?” Silence. She was looking Triss in the eye for a couple of seconds. Then she moved out of the way so the other woman could enter the room, who did exactly that.

Triss let her coat slip off her shoulders and then turned around, so she was facing Yennefer. Yen had just closed the door behind her and was leaning against it, watching the red haired sorceress her movements. “I can see that you are already ready to go.” Triss mentioned, referring to the fact that she was only wearing underwear. Black underwear with little white ornaments, of course.

“Yes, I can’t wait to get this over with. To see the look on his face once he realizes what he has gotten himself into. You should get properly dressed as well, Merigold.” Yen walked back towards the bed and started brushing her raven locks again. Not that it was necessary, her hair was soft as satin and didn’t have any tangles, but doing that relaxed her.

“As you wish, Yen. Won’t take much time though.” Triss murmured some words and a green light surrounded her body. When the shine faded away, she was wearing nothing but her underwear. It was black with clear blue ornaments and little red bows. Very Triss’ish.

“Tada!” Triss said. Yen raised her eyebrow and looked as if she was looking down on Triss. “Congratulations Merigold. You managed to cast a level 1 spell without burning down the building. You should be proud of yourself. It’s only one of the first spells that every novice coming to Aretuza learns. Bravo.”

Triss rolled her eyes. “No need to be so sneering. After all, I am helping you with your plan. Am I not?” Yennefer stopped brushing her hair and turned towards the other woman. “I was under the impression that this was our plan, Merigold. Not mine.” Triss smiled. “Yes Yen, yes it is. Talking about the plan, shouldn’t it be about time Geralt arrived? It’s getting late. And it’s not like we are getting any younger.”

Triss had just finished her sentence when they heard a knock. “Speak of the devil…” Yennefer whispered and walked towards the door. Before she opened it, she closed her eyes and send a wave of her magic towards Triss, who could feel this immediately and instantly put her shield up. However, once she felt what the purpose of the magic was, she started to let her shield down. Slowly and hesitatingly, but she did it anyway. When Yennefer her magic came through and made contact with Triss her being, they could hear each other’s thoughts once again.

It had been years since the two sorceresses had shared a communication bond, but it felt as if it had only been a day. It felt warm, comforting and reassuring. Just as their friendship always used to feel. She smiled towards Triss. “Ready, Merigold?” “Let’s get this show on the road Yenna.”

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 Apparently Geralt had lost his patience waiting for the two woman to let him in, so he opened the door himself and walked into the room, holding a bottle of expensive wine. Yennefer appeared behind the witcher, putting her hand on his shoulder and pressed herself against him. “I’d lost hope that you’d appear.” She purred, while Triss flattered herself against his other side. “We couldn’t wait for you to show.” The red haired sorceress whispered.

“Well, we really are happy that he came, aren’t we?” Triss added in thought. “Absolutely.” Yen replied. Triss took the bottle of wine out of Geralt his hands, and walked towards the table using sensual movements. It just took one look at the witcher, and you could see that he clearly liked where this was going.

Yen took Geralt’s hand and started leading him towards the bed, making very sexual noises. “Omg Yen, you’re so overdoing it!” Triss send, which made Yennefer her smile even wider. Geralt removed the swords from his back using only one hand, and then he threw them on the floor. Yen made his clothes go away with the snap of her finger.

“That’s how you do a undressing spell, Merigold.” When they got to the edge of the bed, she pushed him. He landed on his back next to Triss, who was already laying on her side of the bed. You could see the bobble in his pants grow, so, so far he was buying their show.

Triss her hand started exploring the witcher’s chest, and Yen crawled onto the bed, her hands striking the inside of his legs. He clearly liked what they were doing. “Now?” Triss thought. “After you.” Yennefer replied. Triss took the witcher his right hand and held it against her face for a moment. Then she placed his hand into the shackle that was attached to the bed, but she didn’t close it yet.

Yennefer realized that she never expected to do something like this with Triss. That Triss Merigold would be her partner in crime. The two sorceresses sat up and turned towards each other. The only thing left for them to do was to lock him up. But for some reason, Yennefer was drawn to Triss. Had to look at her. Had to feel her.

She looked at Triss, lilac eyes met cornflower blue ones. It felt as if she saw her for the very first time. Her fire colored hair, the freckles on her face, the blue eyes, the smile that seemed to be glued to her face…

Yennefer didn’t know why she did what she did next. Maybe it was the excitement in the air, maybe the wine she had drank earlier when she was alone… But she did it and that was all that mattered. She leaned forward and captured Triss’s lips with her own.

The scent of Triss’s perfume entered her nose. It was the smell of cherry’s, and it entwined with Yennefer her lilac and gooseberry perfume. Softly their lips explored each other, for the very first time. She was kissing Triss Merigold, the sorceress she had hated for years.

Triss went along with it, she probably assumed it was still part of Yennefer her plan. The moaning sounds that Geralt made, seeing the two woman kiss had clearly turned him on, made their lips break contact. They turned their attention back to the witcher laying on his back. He was clearly having the time of his life. “Shackle time.” She send to Triss, being careful not to let her in about the thoughts she just had. The thoughts during the kiss.

They each grabbed one of his hands, and locked them in the shackles. It was done. Geralt of Rivia, the famous witcher, the white wolf, the butcher of Blaviken… Was tied to the bed wearing nothing but his underwear. The two ladies got off the bed and walked to the table where the wine he had brought along was waiting to be consumed.

Yennefer grabbed the bottle and started pouring the wine into the two silver goblets that Triss had put their earlier. Geralt looked at them with a pouty face. “What about me? Don’t I get any?” he asked. The two sorceresses both looked him in the eyes. “You…” Yen said. “…just got exactly what you deserve.” The women tapped their glasses in victory and took a sip from the wine. Yennefer had to admit that it was good wine indeed.

It was only now that Geralt seemed to notice something was wrong. “Hey! This isn’t funny!” he growled. Yen and Triss put their cups down and walked towards the door, completely ignoring the witcher. “Come back!” he yelled. They didn’t. “Triss! Yen!”

He tried getting out of the shackles, which was a lost case. Frustrated he floundered with his legs, which was a extremely funny sight. He looked like a fish who was thrown onto dry land.

Just before they opened the door, Yennefer snapped her fingers once more, and as a result she and Triss were completely dressed again. They closed the door and left Geralt the Fish behind them.

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https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13103094/1/The-Raven-and-the-Fox-Chapter