#sacrifice geralt

[writeshite]

....okay hear me out, Geralt helping Reader escape being a virgin sacrifice by ah....helping him get rid of the virgin part 👀

Previous

Geralt doesn’t like the sorcerer who greets the two of you. Yvad Vassird, he’d introduced himself. Yvad is a relatively young sorcerer, conniving, condescending, and an ass to boot - his dark hair is neatly combed back and cropped to the sides, and his robes are a rich blue with silver detailing. The so-called temple is no better - more so a fortress, with sigils carved into every brick of the building, with a rotating guard of sorcerers watching over anything and anyone that walks in and out. He doesn’t like how they stare at you with something sinister, shrugging off the looks of disgust they throw at him.

“...your bravery is admirable, dear boy, to surrender yourself to the forces of Order for the betterment of the Continent, truly a feat.” Geralt catches the tail end of Yvad’s speech and rolls his eyes. Thankfully, the man leaves once you’re escorted to your temporary resting chambers; the room has a bed and enough magic to keep it comfortable enough. Geralt paces and checks every corner for any sort of traps, and you have to call him away from the windows when he growls at something and draws the curtains closed.

“Darling, you can glare violently at the people outside,” you quip, patting the place on the bed beside you. He reluctantly comes to sit, leaning his head against yours, thumbs rubbing circles on your hands. He helps you change into the required clothing, kissing your skin whenever he can - it’s not even clothing really, but instead a loose tunic that lays over your body. When Yvad returns, he’s accompanied by masked sorcerers, and no amount of convincing can deter Geralt from seeing you to your final moments. 

You’re led to the central altar high in the building - a massive mirror hangs above the room, and multiple other mirrors are positioned around the ceiling - when Geralt crosses the threshold, he feels his bones twist, the magic in the air is conflicting, and he wonders how you, Yvad and the other sorcerers stand without trouble. The room appears clean, but Geralt can smell the old blood as strong as it would have been the day it was spilled. Yvad has Geralt remain on the outskirts of the altar as he leads you by the hand to the altar itself, stood under the large mirror. The masked sorcerers begin to chant, raising their hands; Chaos bleeds from their fingertips, striking the smaller mirrors, darting around before coming together to the large mirror and being reflected down to you. 

The floor closest to you lights up with sigils; you glance at Geralt before runes dot your skin, and you fall to your knees. Yvad claps his hands, and the smaller mirrors tilt, focusing more Chaos onto you; your own begins to bleed from you, growing more violent as it’s pulled and pushed. Geralt is acutely aware of your screaming but is stopped by Yvad’s pinning gaze, “Interfere, and you might kill him, witcher.”

“You’re already doing that,” he hisses, proven right when you cough up blood. 

“It’s necessary,” Yvad responds. The chanting becomes quieter as Yvad takes over, hands drawing in the air; the Chaos turns into what Geralt must assume is Order. The sigils glow brighter, and your body contorts, floating in the air before a violent burst of energy is released. “FUCK! Keep it controlled!” Yvad yells.

One masked sorcerer is knocked through the window by the next wave; his screams go uncared for by Yvad. The man rolls his eyes when the others flinch, “Stay focused!” When the next wave hits more of them, you crumple to the ground, struggling to lift your head as your screams become sobs. 

Burnt flesh wafts through the air, and Geralt’s resolve breaks - the spell is already unstable with one masked sorcerer gone, so Geralt gets rid of another - the sigils flicker, and the ground shakes. Yvad turns to him, fury in his face; Geralt dodges an attack and rushes to you - surmising the focus of the spell must be well protected; he’s proven right yet again when Yvad’s magic bounces back. He alternates between shaking you lightly and patting your cheek, “Come on. Come on. Come on.”

Your skin is warm, and when your eyes flutter open, Geralt feels as though he’s staring into a flame. Geralt…?” It takes you a moment before your mind catches on, and you spring to grab his shoulders, “....you stupid, stupid man!”

“You can insult me later; now, we need to get out of here.”

Yvad laughs, “You’re going nowhere, witcher.” Yvad’s voice is close to his ear; Geralt turns and is thrown far from you and through a window, hanging off the edge. Two things happen. One - Yvad takes two steps toward him, ready to have him fall to his death - two - the sorcerer flies past him as a loud ‘NO’ echoes, and the other windows shatter. Geralt crawls back in to find whoever’s left a pile of blood and bones.

You stand at the center, hand held out, and Geralt catches you before you can topple over again, “We need to get you out of here before the others find their way up here.” You nod, steeling yourself; a portal crackles to life, leading you to Roach as the other sorcerers' steps grow closer, you open another, and Geralt has Roach gallop through with you first before following. The portal led to a safehouse you’d cobbled from a dead peer - having invested what little free time you had to ensure it remained far from the Brotherhood - Geralt catches you before you slump off Roach, and you wake hours later to him sat by your bedside.

“Geralt? I’m…I’m alive?”

“Yeah, I promised, didn’t I? We’re far from everyone else,” he replies, hand coming to caress your face, “and, considering the whole sacrifice thing fell through—”

You drag him forward before he can finish, lips slotting against his to ensure this is real and that you hadn’t died and gone to some dream amid your death. Geralt holds you, pulling you closer; you laugh with relief when you part, leaning your head against his. “I’m alive,” you sigh. “Please, never ever, do what you did back there again.”

“Hmm, no promises.” He kisses you again, leaning further into your space and laying you back on the bed. Sliding between your legs as he pushes the tunic up, his fingers stretch your ass - the Brotherhood had believed, gods know why, that virgins made for better sacrifices - you’d resolved to kiss Geralt when you could, but now? Now, you strived to be fucked.

Geralt must deem you prepared as his cock replaces his fingers - it’s an adjustment, to say the least - you wince, and he halts his movements, “Is it too much?”

“Give me…just a minute,” you groan, clenching around him, “ok…you….move again,” you mumble. He wants to move slowly for your sake, but you protest, encouraging him to move faster; you sob enthusiastically when Geralt thrusts faster, the bed creaks, and you're certain it comes close to snapping. His teeth drag across your skin, and your own senses feel elevated, ears buzzing as Geralt slams into you with more and more force. When he cums, your eyes screw shut as something, or rather a lot of somethings, crash.

Geralt chuckles, "We can replace that later." You don't ask what it is, instead chuckling alongside him.

[bluedillylee]

Fanart for Sunlight and Seafoam

 “I had a contract between a human and mermaid lover once,” said Geralt. “It wasn’t a bit like that stupid song. Or maybe exactly like it, given how well it turned out. But it was anything but ‘romantic’.”

 “What happened?” both Essi and Dandelion demanded at once, making Geralt wish he hadn’t said a thing. Essi had the calculating look of someone who was eager to start composing whatever he foolishly said, and Dandelion had half-pulled himself into Geralt’s now-soaked lap in his eagerness to get the witcher to speak. It was very distracting.”

This is more book focused with Dandelion instead of Jaskier. Don’t let that stop you if you’ve only seen the tv show because this story is fantastic. I love it and have gone back for several re-reads already

also posted on Ao3

[thedemonofcat]

So tomorrow, we get a teaser trailer about The Witcher Sirens of the Deep. If anyone is unaware, there is an upcoming animated film based on the short story A Little Sacrifice.

Now, I don't know about anyone else, but I'm excited and curious about how the characters will look. This will be the first time seeing Essi Daven, so she probably looks like how she describes in the books, but I wonder about Geralt and Jaskier.

Are they going to take after their Netflix actors' appearance?

Their game version appears.

Hell, maybe they'll even look like how they are described in the books.

[ladycibia]

LadyCibia I absolutely adore all your chibi art, especially your chibi Witcher series! Your recent art with the book versions of the characters made me so happy because the Witcher books have less of a fandom online than the Netflix show and the games so I love when people make art/meta/fic, etc. about them. What were your favorite scenes/parts of the books?

What a lovely message, thank you very much!! ; v ; 💛💛💛 I'm so happy you're enjoying them! Let me offer you a silly doodle inspired by my favourite short story and then I'll answer your question under the cut X3

The first thing that came to my mind after reading your question was Dandelion charming his way into Brokilon Forest to find Geralt, so of course there's that. Then, if we're talking about the main plot (so from Blood of Elves to Lady of the Lake), my favourite scenes are basically all the ones featuring Geralt's hansa, ahah! But if I had to pick one, the fish soup chapter is probably my favourite. I'd also like to mention Dandelion and Yennefer's short exchange at the beginning of Blood of Elves (if I remember correctly?) and Ciri's training in Kaer Morhen, which, unfortunately, it's one of the reasons The Witcher Season 2 was a disappointment to me ;;

Main plot aside, I really appreciate short stories and "Monster of the Week" episodes, so I had a great time reading the first two books (especially because I love fairy tales and their twisted versions...despite the fact that some of them are already quite twisted on their own) and I really enjoyed Season of Storms! As you can see, my favourite short story is A Little Sacrifice, its ending always gets me (but I could read and re-read them all again and again without getting tired). I've recently bought the comic book adaptation of A Grain of Truth and I really hope more short stories will get adapted in the future!

[wolvesandfoxes25]

The greater the love

the deeper the love

the more excruciating the pain

[geekcavepodcast]

The Witcher: Sirens of The Deep Teaser

The Witcher: Sirens of The Deep is an anime adaptation of Andrzej Sapkowski's Witcher short story "A Little Sacrifice" where Geralt finds himself in the middle of a conflict between humans and the merpeople.

The Witcher: Sirens of The Deep stars the voice talents of Doug Cockle (Geralt), Joey Batey (Jaskier), Anya Chalotra (Yennifer), Christina Wren (Essi Daven). The animation is by Studio Mir.

The Witcher: Sirens of The Deep hits Netflix in late 2024. Check out the announcement video here.

[hanzajesthanza]

heterosexual things to say to your best and closest friend of many years

[dftea]

The Ceaseless Cry

Accidental Warlord AU (@inexplicifics) - Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, Lambert/Milena, Aiden/Sasha - hurt/comfort, angst, and attempted magical murder (oh my!)

The humans of Kaer Morhen suddenly turn on their Witchers - and what magic has wrought, only cunning can undo.

[read on ao3]

[littlestsnicket]

fic snippet (intended to be part of a much longer pre-season 3 fic, but i think i’m very funny and clever so i’m sharing this now):

“Any requests, princess?”

Jaskier has been a persona non grata in Cintra all of Ciri’s life (she’s identified at least two reasons why by now) so she’s not familiar with his work.

“Play a love song, but a sad one.” It would suit the sort of mood she was in.

“Oh, I have the perfect song for that. It’s about a man and a siren. Geralt hates it,” Jaskier said with a smile.

“Because that’s not what happened.”

“And what did happen, my dear Witcher?”

“Firstly, she’s a mermaid, not a siren. And they’re happily married.”

“Oh ho ho! That, I sincerely doubt. People who wed that quickly and without even bothering to learn each other's languages rarely are. And people scoff when I say you’re the romantic of the two of us.”

Geralt’s mouth bowed into something dangerously close to a pout.

“Just play the song, bard,” Yennefer snipped. And Jaskier looked at her, all soft like he was totally certain she didn’t mean it, and Yennefer smiled apologetically for a single moment before she dropped her gaze.

[hannibard]

"I'm choking from the taste (but I can't help but swallow)"

Pairings: Geraskier, Radskier

Summary: "There's too much at stake Geralt, it's not worth it. Go back to Kaer Morhen and forget about me."

"You're more than worth it Jaskier and I'll do anything in my power to get you out of this hell. Melitele help anyone who stands in my way."

Jaskier is taken by Radovid in the midst of his travels with Geralt and Milva. The Redanian king, changed from his recent ascent to power, is determined to get everything he wants, with Jaskier having the misfortune of being on top of the list. Jaskier spends time serving Radovid in the Redanian court, drowning in despair and losing parts of himself in the process, his only consolation being the knowledge that his friend was safe from the Redanian army due to his sacrifice.

Sometime after Geralt has united the north under his rule, he decides to pay a visit to Redania in the hope of reuniting with his bard. But Jaskier is not as he remembers, his psyche having been fractured in their time apart. Will the witcher be able to help him escape his tragic fate?

Inspired by the song "Poison" from Hazbin Hotel

Click here to read on Ao3

---

Chapter 1: How it all started

He had been traveling together with Geralt and Milva for a few months when they took him. The three had made good progress on their way to Nilfgaard, occasionally adding other skilled individuals that were willing to aid in their cause to their group, like the high vampire/surgeon Regis, and the possibility of reaching Ciri was becoming more apt with each passing day. Jaskier was, despite the sharp worry in his gut for the girl he had come to consider something akin to a daughter, relatively content.

Things were in no way easy, but at least he was (finally) at Geralt's side again. Plus, this time around he was actually able to pull his weight. Gone were the days of him being barely more than a burden that slowed the witcher down and made his life harder, as his role had been for the majority of their acquaintance.

(If life could give me one blessing-)

He had been by himself in some backwater village, because they needed to make money somehow and Jaskier was, despite all his faults, an excellent bard. His ability to be useful, even amidst such impressive individuals, filled him with pride. The others had made camp a few miles away in order to not draw attention. It was risky enough for Jaskier to make those semi-frequent appearances in the public eye, even with the new moniker he had adopted in his attempt to pass as different person. He had rarely traveled this far south in the past, so he wasn’t too worried about being recognized.

(it goes without saying that he avoided performing any songs from the vast repertoire he had created centered around his greatest muse, the White Wolf.)

His set was coming to an end, and he was looking forward to drinking an ale after gathering his earnings, before starting his long way back to his companions. He was in the middle of just that when he was approached by a hooded figure. They moved gracefully, weaving skillfully through the crowd before sitting down across the bard.

“Beautiful voice you’ve got there.” Their face was hidden in the shadow created by the hood, which was dark and modest, not carrying any identifiable markings.

Jaskier didn’t let his alarm show. “Thank you friend, I’m always one to appreciate compliments.” He took a long sip from his tankard methodically in a show of nonchalance.

The hooded figure cocked their head to the side and reached their hand out. “With talent such as yours, it’s a wonder you’re not more well-known Master…?”

Jaskier gave a bright grin, subtly wiping the sweat making its way down his forehead, and shook the stranger’s hand. Their grip was firm, and its hold lasted a bit longer than was considered socially appropriate. “The name’s Dandelion. And you are…?”

“A beautiful name to match the beautiful voice.” The figure avoided the question and tilted their head back so that their matching grin could be visible to the bard. Jaskier couldn't see their eyes, he had a nagging impression that he was being checked out from top to bottom. “Of course I can't neglect mentioning the beautiful appearance. Though if you don’t mind my humble opinion, I’d say there’s another name that would suit you more fittingly.”

The bard’s grin twitched ever so slightly. “And what would that be my dear fellow? Do say so.”

The stranger leaned forward. “Jaskier.” they said almost conspiratorially.

The bard’s smile fell all together, and he looked around with the corner of his eye. None of the inn’s patrons seemed to have heard, too busy drinking, eating and chatting loudly with each other. The innkeeper himself was curiously missing from the room.

“What do you want?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“If you want to find out then follow me and don’t make a scene. It wouldn’t benefit either of us.”

Jaskier gulped and slowly stood up. He made sure to grab his lute and not to let his nervousness show. “As you wish.”

They made their way outside, and as soon as they were out of people’s sight the stranger grabbed his arm with a strong grip that left no room for resistance, no matter how much Jaskier tried to pull away. They reached a building that stood tall in the periphery of the village, and the hooded figure surveyed their surroundings before opening the front door and pushing Jaskier inside. The force made the bard fall to his knees and he hissed in pain, his lute thankfully tucked safely against his back. He vaguely heard the door close and lock behind him just as he looked up, his mind too busy short-circuiting at the sight he came across.

“Hello darling.” said Radovid as he stood up from a makeshift throne, making his way to the bard and dropping to one knee in front of him. The newly-crowned king took Jaskier’s chin in one hand and gently stoked his cheek with the other, smiling gently. “Oh how I’ve missed you.” He said wistfully and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

Jaskier was left speechless, his brows furrowing together in confusion. He hadn’t seen Radovid since that fateful day in Aretuza after the Thanedd ball, in the midst of all the chaos. Their parting had been hopeful but it didn’t take long for Jaskier to hear about Radovid’s sudden enthronement, so he had resolved himself to the reality that their story would remain forever unfinished. His regret lessened more and more with the time he spent at his witcher’s side.

“Radov-, Y-your majesty, to what do I owe the honor of this, ah, sudden summons?” he said when he finally managed to make his mouth move.

Radovid’s eyes hardened almost imperceptibly at the bard’s term of address. He let out a defeated sigh and hung his head low. “I never once stopped thinking about you my dear, every day we spent apart was pure torture, and now that my reign has stabilized I though it was the perfect time to pay you a visit." He looked up and stared unblinkingly into the bards blue eyes. "Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Jaskier swipped his lips with his tongue, a motion that Radovid tracked hungrily. “Oh, I uh, I’m elated to see you, truly, but I’m just a tad confused. You see, your buddy over there that escorted me here, let’s just say they weren’t very gentle in their approach. In few words and with no offense, it left a lot to be desired. I was expecting to encounter some sort of Nilfgaardian general ready to chop my head off and not… you.”

Radovid huffed and offered a hand to Jaskier, helping him up. Now that Jaskier was somewhat over his initial surprise he was able to take in the king’s appearance. There were some subtle changes, like the short beard that had replaced his previously clean-shaven face, his once lean body seemed to have filled with muscle, but the biggest change, the one that made Jaskier’s breath catch in his throat, was in his eyes.

Before, Radovid’s eyes were like a window to his soul that only Jaskier had a key to, full of intelligence and softness, specifically towards his person, but now… Now his gaze was guarded. The only thing Jaskier could detect besides the current show of the king’s emotions, was darkness. It was something he was only able to decipher after his years of experience performing in countless courts and dealing with all sorts of people in his travels. It caused a chill to run down his spine.

“You don’t have to worry about Nilfgaard any more my love, you won’t have to deal with them ever again.” Radovid said as he patted down the outrageously large fur that hung from his shoulders.

Jaskier blinked rapidly a few times and raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean by that Your Majesty?”

Radovid looked at him as though he’d asked a very stupid question. “Redania’s power has grown vastly in recent months as I’m sure you’ve heard. Nilfgaard wouldn’t dare take a single step towards us. Also please cut all the ‘Your Majesty’s, our relationship has evolved beyond such formalities.”

Jaskier nodded tentatively “I’ve certainly heard about your accomplishments, but I don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

Radovid rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. “You’re coming with us silly.”

Jaskier’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He had been bombarded by shock after shock in such quick succession that he hadn’t been able to calm his racing mind in a minute.

“I appreciate the offer, truly, Your Majes- Radovid.” the bard quickly corrected his words after seeing Radovid’s face twist in displeasure. “But I’m afraid I have to decline. You see, I’m currently in the middle of a very important quest that I must see through to the end.”

The king’s eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. “So you’d choose that witcher over me? Even after everything he’s put you through? I could give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of, comfort and luxury beyond your wildest dreams, but you’d seriously rather continue following that monster like a lost puppy?”

The bard wasn’t happy with the name Radovid used to describe his dearest friend, but he let it go, choosing to focus on the matter at hand. “I’m sorry Radovid. It is what it is.”

A glimpse of hurt flashed in the king’s eyes and his shoulder’s slumped as he turned away from the bard. He took a few deep breaths before he straightened up again. When their eyes met once more, Radovid’s hardened gaze was filled with resolve. Jaskier waited with bated breath for his response.

“If you won’t come with me willingly… I’ll just have to bring you by force.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened and his blood ran cold. Before he was able to do anything, two guards surrounded him and grabbed his shoulders from each side. He thrashed wildly but it was for naught, the bard being much weaker than his captors. “No-, Radovid- please don’t do this, I’m begging you!” He asked desperately.

The king looked down at him with his chin up and an air of confidence surrounding him, for the first time appearing as ruthless and regal as his title implied.

“I’m afraid I can’t listen to you darling. One of the perks of being a king is that I can do and have whatever I wish for, and nobody can stand in my way.” He waved his hand towards the bard nonchalantly as he addressed his followers. “Bring him a pen and paper. Have him write a letter to the witcher and deliver it to the innkeeper. He’ll know what to do.”

The guards dragged Jaskier towards a desk and deposited him in a chair, writing tools bring placed on the surface before him a moment later. His hand was shaking as he picked up the pen. A tear slid down his cheek as he tried one last time to change the king’s mind. “Please Radovid... Let me go.”

The king crossed his arms and his mouth formed a tight line. “That’s ‘Your Majesty’ to you.”

Jaskier let out a sob and stared down at the paper, blinking rapidly in an effort to clear his blurry eyesight. His mind was racing trying to find a way to leave some sort of secret message to alert Geralt of his situation. Radovid seemed to read his thoughts however, because he gripped the bard’s nape tightly and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Don’t even think about pulling any tricks or your dear witcher and the rest of your group will leave their last breaths at the camp they’re currently stationed on. My soldiers have the place surrounded as we speak.”

With those words the bards last hope was extinguished. The last thing he wanted to do was put his friends in danger. Even with their combined extraordinary strength, he didn’t want to chance either of them getting seriously injured. If obedience was the price to pay for their safety, then so be it.

“At least promise me you’ll leave them alone.”

Radovid gave a chaste kiss to the bard’s neck and ran what would be considered under normal circumstances a comforting hand down his back. “You have my word. I didn't care about them in the first place.” He gave the bard one last squeeze and went to sit back in his throne.

Jaskier took a deep breath and started writing. The single tear that hit the paper, while certain to be identifiable with the witcher’s heightened senses, would probably be assumed to have been a product of Jaskier’s typical sentimentality and nothing more.

Dear Geralt,

You’ll find me dearly saddened to inform you that our long-standing companionship must come to an end. You see, I’ve had time to think while staying in this lovely little settlement away from you lot, and I've come to realize what it is I truly want. That of course being king Radovid of Redania. I’ve talked to you about our ill-fated relationship before as you might recall. Somehow, things for us two don’t seem as bleak as they one were. I can see a light at the end of the tunnel and thus I’ve decided to go to Redania and try to build a future with him. Love conquers all and the like.

For the first time in my life, I’m putting myself before you. I’m choosing my own happiness. I hope you’re able to achieve your goals and manage to locate Ciri safe and sound. When you do, which I've no doubt you'll achieve, give her all my love. Please inform the rest of our group about my decision. I’m sorry for doing this so suddenly but you know how matters of the heart can be. They leave no room for patience.

Ever your affectionate friend,

Julian Alfred Pankratz.

[volfoss]

sorry it literally gets me every time when a guy that's had NO ONE his entire life adopts a kid (because of necessity to protect them) and he just fully does EVERYTHING in his power to keep them safe even if it would cause him immense harm

[fangirleaconmigo]

I'm sure you have already been asked about it, but I need to hear about your WIP Virgin Sacrifice (Geraskier), lol. Also tell me about David loves Patrick’s Cabaret Costume? Sorry, I know I'm arriving late to the party haha.

Stinaaa I am very slow at things but thank you for sending me this for the WIP game.

Actually no one has asked about that one yet! (well I did post a snippet probably almost a year ago when it was still a WIP, sob.)

I have written a bit more, so why don't I just give you everything I have? *clears throat* Here it is.

Geralt rescues a virgin sacrifice, who is not at all what he expected.

Geraskier Virgin Sacrifice:

At dawn, in the dark, a hungry and angry werewolf stalked the camp, but when he realised that it was Dandelion who was singing, he listened for a little while and went his way. (A Little Sacrifice)

Geralt took stock of himself before he entered the cave. He tried to smooth down his hair, but it resisted him. He gave up on it and drew his shoulders down apologetically.

If the girl was still alive in there, she'd be terrified. Terrified people didn’t tend to find his presence immediately comforting, and children were always the most horrified.

But there wasn’t much he could do about first impressions. His scars spoke of violence. And as much as he wanted to think of his eyes as graceful and feline, most people saw them as demonic and serpentine. And when he smiled, it only made matters worse.

Well. He wasn’t getting any prettier. It was now or never.

He swept aside the dangling vines and crept into the cave. They fell stubbornly back into a curtain behind him. The cave was small and dark and shaped like an egg. Dry sticks and twigs defiantly crackled under his boots. Something in the depths of the shadows heard him. It whimpered plaintively.

Geralt moved closer. He squinted, trying to unravel the gloom.

“Are you here to rescue me, good hero?” ventured a voice from the dark. The voice was hoarse and dusty, but it was unmistakably hopeful. That hope tugged at the hem of Geralt’s spirits. People in difficult situations were rarely happy to see him. Resigned maybe. Grimly determined. That was the best Geralt could hope for.

Another thing that struck Geralt as odd was that the voice was masculine, and adult. Young. But adult. It could not be right.

Superstitious types, the kind that offered virgin sacrifices, only tended to involve themselves in the sexual choices of women. Regis, Geralt’s vampire friend, explained it all to him. Fear of women, he’d said. Fear of their sexuality exercised independently. It made sense.

Also, to ensure they really had a virgin, they chose younger and younger sacrifices with each generation. Town elders and clerics these days hauled helpless, tiny, girl children up mountains to be torn asunder, their lives snuffed out before they can even truly begin.

These were all just generalizations though. And not every woman was, or sounded, feminine. Geralt had lived long enough to know that the entirety of humanity would never fit into one of two discrete sex categories. He tucked his assumptions away and readied himself for anything. He opened his mouth, but sputtered when a spiderweb brushed his face. He waved it away and tried again.

“Eh. Yeah,” he said. He was unsure of what to do or say. His mind and his mouth refuse to run on the same track. Instead they ground against each other in disharmony. “I mean. I'm here to—“ he swallowed, “kill the monster. But I didn’t want to leave before I got the….virgin.”

“You killed Harold?”

Harold?

Geralt blinked and his eyes adjusted. He made out a huddled figure on the ground. Blue gray eyes blinked up at him from behind a messy, sweaty fringe.

“Harold?”

“Yeah! I had to give him a name. Even if he just snarled at me.” Sounds of awkward shuffling accompanied his answer.

“Why didn’t he eat you?” Geralt was still trying to fit the name Harold into the existing puzzle of a werewolf, and what a young man was doing trussed up as a virgin sacrifice.

“Rude!” the young man objected.

Geralt sighed. “You know what I mean.” He had forgotten all about hunching over, and his hair was as wild as it had ever been. He stepped forward and knelt next to the man.

The young man twisted his body so he could better see Geralt. Geralt wished he wouldn’t. He was glad it was too dark for this human to see well.

“Well I suppose he likes my singing. Liked my singing, that is. If you’ve offed him.”

“He didn’t untie you,” Geralt said, then immediately felt ridiculous stating the obvious. But the large expressive eyes at his knees were doing something interesting to his gut, and it was scattering his thoughts further.

“Well,” said the captive, scooting and wincing in another attempt to see Geralt’s face. “I’m quite sure he intended to eat me. It was just a matter of him getting hungry enough to kill me despite the entertainment I was providing.”

“Ah.”

“Also, he doesn’t—-didn’t, may his soul rest—have opposable thumbs. But you do. So please, my good champion?” He tried to scoot closer, grunting and trying to push his wrists forward to offer the ropes. They were wrapped tight around broad shoulders and narrow hips, and Geralt couldn’t help but notice that this was indeed a grown adult.

“May his soul rest?” Geralt said stupidly, his mind coming back to focus.

“Sir? Please?” The young man wiggled.

“Oh, yes. Sorry.”

Geralt reached for the first knots, forcing the man to turn his back to him to allow him to reach the knots on his arms.

“What’s your name by the way, good knight? I’m Jaskier.”

“Geralt.”

Geralt meant to tell him he wasn’t a knight. He meant to. But his mind was muddled, he was distracted, and perhaps he was enjoying the eagerness of this Jaskier just a little too much. No matter, he would soon be untied, and he would see Geralt. At that point, Geralt wouldn’t need to say anything. Jaskier would see his eyes and know exactly what he was.

He quietly made short work of the knots, each rope unspooling and thudding onto the ground.

“Alright. Well. You’re free now. And safe.” He threw in that last part so that Jaskier wouldn’t panic when he saw him.

Jaskier exhaled and scooted in a circle so that he could see Geralt. Geralt was still on his knees, and Jaskier sat cross legged, rubbing his wrists. He regarded Geralt carefully, leaning forward to squint through the gray of the cave.

“Well. Aren’t you gorgeous? We could’ve left some of those on if you’d liked.”

Geralt should have been relieved at a compliment and a flirtation from a handsome young man, even though that man was covered in a film of dust and wearing a shit eating grin. But he didn’t want to be relieved. He wanted to be annoyed.

“You are not a virgin.”

Geralt wasn’t able to believe that this man truly thought him gorgeous or that this smile was for him. So he argued with him instead.

“I am!”

It had to be because Jaskier still thought he was a knight. Because he couldn’t see well. It was Geralt’s eyes that gave him away, and it was probably too dim to see their true nature.

“I expected a maiden. A child. The superstitious are most fearful of women. And they don’t like to take chances with the virgin part of a virgin sacrifice,” he grunted.

Jaskier was rubbing his ankles now. “I’m sorry to disappoint you with my age and sex. Perhaps knights don’t receive as generous compensation for men. But I must insist that I am a virgin. And unfortunately I admitted it to a particularly awful cad and he ratted me out to the alderman when they started discussing human sacrifices.”

Geralt grimaced at the reminder that these miserable cunts send an innocent man to die for no reason in the jaws of a werewolf. Jaskier interpreted his grimace to indicate further disbelief.

“Am so. Like I said! A virgin! And a grateful one at that, my brave, courageous champion.”

“Fine.”

“And what kind of knight are you? Besides a gorgeous one. Do you have a kingdom? Are you a knight errant, roaming the countryside looking for virgins to rescue?”

Geralt ignored his questions. He stood up and pulled Jaskier to his feet. He wobbled a bit and pitched into Geralt’s space. Geralt moved forward just in time to catch him. He clutched Geralt’s shoulders.

“Sorry.” Jaskier’s legs trembled for a moment. “I’ve been tied up for like a da— oh.”

His hands had just flexed on Geralt’s shoulders. “Wow.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were aflame with mortified pleasure. “Are you done?”

“Sure.” Jaskier licked his lips. “It’s just. You have very nice shoulders.”

His hands slipped down to his biceps.

“Holy shit.“

Geralt did not know what to say to that, so he grunted.

“Eloquent.” Jaskier arched an eyebrow. It wasn’t unkind. But it was teasing. “I won’t miss Harold at all.”

Geralt shook his head. “Are you done jesting? We need to get out of here. Geralt extricated himself and had taken two steps towards the exit when Jaskier spoke.

There was sudden vulnerability in his voice. It was so sudden, this drop from bombast to raw uncertainty. It stopped Geralt in his tracks.

He turned around, and once he had taken in Jaskier’s expression and body language, he realized that he had misjudged him. He had taken mouthy courage at face value. Jaskier was tired. He was frightened. He was overcompensating for it.

He tried to make his voice softer.

“What.”

Jaskiers fingers fiddled with the sleeves of his tunic.

“As much as I enjoy making friends of the monster variety, it wasn’t as…pleasant as you might think to be drugged and tied up and piss myself waiting to be eaten.”

Geralt swallowed and nodded.

“And by my own friends no less. The woman who used to teach me piano lessons. The men who tied me up were my uncles.”

“It’s wrong.” Geralt said quietly. “They’re assholes.”

“My whole life growing up, singing, dancing, and well alright being a bit of a scamp. It all added up to worthless. Only fit for monster food.”

Geralt’s chest grew tight.

“Yes. So. As I was sitting there tied up, I resolved never to be in this situation again. So. I came up with a plan.”

“It’s not your fault Jaskier. There wasn’t anything you could’ve done.”

“Yes but. As I sat there tied up I had time to think. And. What if I weren’t a virgin anymore? I resolved to fuck the next man I met no matter what he looked like.

“Oh thanks.”

“No! That’s not what I mean! I was prepared to do that. But then you walked in. Absolute vision. Most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Rescuing me like some gallant knight in a story. I quite literally fucking swooned.”

“Your circulation was cut off. And clearly it’s affected your thinking.”

“Geralt please. What if I weren’t a virgin anymore? What if you. Helped me with that? It would also be a lovely way to show my gratitude.”

“No.” Geralt blurted out. Anger surged in him but he kept it in check. Jaskier hadn’t meant to insult him. This wasn’t about him at all. “I would never take advantage of you. You're upset. And scared. Anyway it’s not your fault. It’s a barbaric, obscene practice. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Yes but I have to live there don’t I?”

“No.”

“Am I really so repulsive? I know I’m not at my best but—“

“Jaskier it’s not that. I’m not—-I’m not fucking you so these assholes will leave you alone. They should just leave you alone.”

“But they won’t. Besides. You’re. Fuck. Look at you. I’d give my right arm and my lute just to touch you on my best day.”

Geralt grunted. “Matter’s closed. Let’s go, Jaskier. It’s a day’s travel back. And if you don’t get water and food in you soon you’re gonna faint.”

He turned and headed for the cave entrance. Jaskier dashed in front of him, eyes desperate. It was as though he thought the privacy they had in the cave was their last chance.

“I’m not going back! Not as a virgin. Please? I know it’s a lot to ask. You just saved my life.”

“It’s not—“

The boy was getting this all wrong.

“No more talking.”

Geralt picked him up and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. He yelped, but there wasn’t much he could do.

“Let’s get you home.”

---

To be continued

----

Now, my David and Patrick one, I just went back and read and no it turns out I cannot share after all lol. It was one of my first fics and it is really really bad. Lmao. Worse than I remember. It was just a horny pwp after David watches Patrick's cabaret performance. And I stopped because I'm only used to writing fantasy scifi characters and they felt *too* real? like I was writing about real people? It weirded me out and I stopped.

And though I could post it, I won't, because it is really bad. But I take that great encouragement that my writing has improved significantly. XD That's the best thing we can ask for as writers.

[vulpinesaint]

HE’S SUCH A FUCKING DORK. DID YOU ALL KNOW. anyway i stay on my geralt motion sickness bullshit i just know that bitch gets seasick

[beth--b]

Sacrifice

Jaskier, Ciri and Geralt had been travelling for weeks with minimal interactions with people or towns.

Although it was necessary for all their safety, Jaskier was dying for the chance to visit a marketplace and buy some of the many things they were low on, or out of completely. They were low on coin as well and while Geralt was quite noticeable with his white hair, Jaskier the bard was also a well known name.

After days of arguments on the topic they finally decided that Geralt would take the next contract he could find, while Jaskier and Ciri bought supplies.

It would be easier for Geralt to approach the alderman alone, and would draw less attention than a performance from a renowned bard.

The two days it took to reach a town after they finally made their decision were two of the longest Jaskier had ever experienced, or at least that's how it felt.

Finally the day came that they reached the town. It wasn't a big city by any means but it was large enough that there was a market square bustling with life.

They parted ways before they came too close to town, Geralt approaching before them and heading for the notice board while Jaskier and Ciri, hoods up, followed at a more leisurely pace.

The Witcher made eye contact with the bard across the square and gave an almost imperceptible nod, then after partially tearing a piece of parchment from the board he strode off.

Read it here on ao3

Jaskier was sure to wait a few minutes before making a pass by the notice board himself. He briefly glanced at the torn parchment noting the contract Geralt had taken was for drowners. A quick simple job usually, not the greatest for coin but it would be done in an afternoon and would get them through as long as Jaskier spent what they currently had wisely.

"Will he be long?" Ciri asked, breaking Jaskier out of his musings.

"Hmm? Oh, no I'd say not. Simple contract shouldn't take long at all really. While he's gone we need to replenish our supplies," he looped their arms together and began to lead Ciri around the small market, explaining what they needed as they walked so she could help keep an eye out for the items they were after.

They spent the afternoon browsing the market, picking up a few essentials, some fruits and vegetables, some bread, a few herbs and some ink among other things. Ciri looked longingly at the sweets on offer and Jaskier figured with the coin Geralt would be adding to their shared purse later in the day he could splurge a little and let Ciri pick out something sweet from the baker.

The girl had just finished licking her sticky fingers clean when a group of soldiers came wandering out of the nearby tavern.

“Fuck,” Jaskier cursed as he pulled Ciri’s hood more firmly over her pale hair. He couldn’t be sure from this distance but he was fairly confident that the insignia they wore was that of Nilfgaard.

Ciri gave a questioning look, following his gaze before her own eyes widened in surprise.

“Jaskier, what do we do?” she asked quietly, looking around the market like Geralt would magically reappear just because she wished it.

“We lay low and make our way out of town. Geralt will come find us once the contract is done if he sees that we’ve left. Don’t worry dear we have contingency plans for this very thing.”

Plan in place the pair slowly resumed walking around the market, this time keeping their heads down a little more, while they were slowly making their way towards the road back out of town.

Jaskier kept an eye on the soldiers, while also looking out for Geralt. He hoped the Witcher would show up, but at the same time he knew Geralt would be easily spotted with his well known white hair.

After enough time had passed so as to not seem suspicious, he was almost certain they were home free as they began to walk out of the market and back towards the main road.

They would make their way down the road to where they parted earlier and head into the woods a little.

Everything was going fine until a young child, maybe ten years old or so, came barrelling down a side street and crashed into the pair, sending both Jaskier and Ciri sprawling.

The commotion drew the attention of a number of locals, as well as the very much unwanted attention of the soldiers, who by that stage had been making their own way across the marketplace, likely gathering their own supplies for the road.

Ciri’s hood came off as she fell and the flash of ash blonde hair was enough to draw the interest of the soldiers.

The small band of men began to stride purposefully towards them, their voices growing louder and one of them beginning to point.

“Shit. Ciri, you need to run. Don’t stop, don’t look back. Just run fast as you can and find Geralt. He’ll keep you safe,” Jaskier whispered hurriedly, eyeing the men who were drawing ever nearer.

Ciri looked ready to protest, but after only a moment she looked away and nodded, taking off at a run down the street.

As Ciri ran the soldiers began to run as well, shouting now and calling for her to halt and to declare herself.

Jaskier put himself between Ciri and the soldiers. He knew there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it out but he would buy her whatever time he could. He pulled his dagger from boot, knowing it would be no good against a sword, and faced the Nilfaardians who would threaten a child.

“Gentlemen, what can I do for you?” Jaskier called, dagger held low but ready.

“State your name and get that girl back here,” the first to arrive stated, he was shorter than Jaskier but a little older and had a scar across his cheek. He had a hand on the hilt of a sword sheathed at his waist.

“Ah good sir, my name is Julian. That was my daughter, you merely startled her-” Jaskier was cut off by the sword aimed for his throat by another of the soldiers, this one a younger man, dark hair obscuring part of his face. What Jaskier could see looked cold and cruel and he gulped, staring at the sword.

“Don’t fucking lie to us you piece of shit, where’s the girl gone to? Tell us and we’ll make your death a quick one.”

Jaskier plastered a fake smile on his face, and got ready to move out of the way if the soldier tried to take his head off.

“Now, now good sir, there’s no need to threaten violence. If you’ll wait right here I’ll go retrieve her for you,” he said, backing away a step, trying to get some distance between himself and the blade.

“I don’t think so,” the first soldier sneered, drawing his own weapon and closing the distance between them.

Jaskier knew he couldn’t fight a sword with a dagger. However, he also knew how to fight dirty. One doesn’t survive long as a travelling bard without picking up a few tricks.

As the soldier began to thrust his blade towards Jaskier, the bard ducked and rolled beneath the blade, using the momentum to get back up again and twisted so he was behind the man, using his dagger to cut deeply into the man’s sword arm. The soldier yelled at the unexpected pain and dropped his sword.

Dropping to the ground once more Jaskier grabbed the fallen weapon. He hated swords, but Geralt had taught him the basics and he intended to use anything at his disposal to keep these bastards away from Ciri as long as possible.

Jaskier wasn’t sure how long he held out before one of them got a good hit in. He had suffered deep laceration to his left arm, the injury causing him to falter and allowing another of the men to get close enough to hit him in the head with the pommel of their sword.

Disoriented, he dropped to the ground and rough hands grabbed him before dragging him away from the road and back to the inn.

Jaskier was vaguely aware of the soldiers shouting at the patrons to get out or suffer the same fate as him.

Suffice to say that the inn was empty within a matter of moments, the barmaid throwing him a pained look as though she wished she could help him on her way out the door.

“Now you can be a good lad and tell us what we want to know and we can end this nice and quick, or you can spend the next few days here with us and we will get it out of you anyway. This’ll be my last offer,” the man speaking to him seemed to be the leader. The others waited to the side while this one grabbed Jaskier by the hair and held his face up to look him in the eye.

Jaskier’s head was throbbing and he felt like he would pass out if not for the insistent pain of his hair being pulled and the man practically spitting his face.

“I told you, my daughter was just startled. She’s probably already come back looking for me-” a fist crunched into his cheek bone and Jaskier stifled a sob. He really wasn’t cut out for this whole torture thing.

It went on in this manner until it was dark. The soldiers kept asking him questions, Jaskier dancing around the truth and refusing to tell them anything of real substance.

He was fairly sure that he passed out at one stage.

Even Nilfgaardian soldiers were only human though, and after what felt like days, but was probably only hours, all but one of the small group headed off to sleep.

The one on guard duty simply tied him to the chair he was sat upon and went to keep a look out.

Jaskier hoped that Ciri had found Geralt. He hoped that they were far away. He hoped they would rescue him. Some of these things were rather contradictory but he was a bard, not a hardened soldier or mercenary. He didn’t want to die here being tortured, though he would if it would only save Ciri.

The night passed slowly, the men swapping out guard duty every two hours so they all got sleep.

Jaskier drifted in and out of consciousness and waited for the dawn to come, mentally preparing himself for another day of being beaten and tortured.

An hour or so before dawn one of his wishes came true when Geralt silently climbed through a back window of the inn when the guard was nodding off.

The soldier startled awake when he saw the intruder but was quickly silenced when Geralt ran him through with his steel sword.

Geralt made quick work of cutting the ropes keeping Jaskier bound, and slung the bard’s less injured arm around his own broad shoulders.

“Geralt, you need to get Ciri out of here. Just leave me, I’ll slow you down,” Jaskier insisted as Geralt half carried him out of the inn and into the darkness of the sleeping town beyond.

“Shut up Jask, Ciri is fine. I'm not leaving you behind," Geralt said firmly, as he continued to lead the bard through the town.

Realising how serious Geralt was Jaskier opted to keep his mouth shut and focus on trying to walk.

By the time they were out of the town and in the forest to the side of the road Jaskier's injuries and exhaustion were catching up to him. More than once Geralt had to catch him as he stumbled.

After the third instance Geralt just closed the space between them and pulled Jaskier to a halt.

"Come on, let me help you," he motioned Jaskier closer before bending as he wrapped one arm around the bard's lower back, the other beneath his knees as he deftly lifted the younger man into his arms.

Too tired to fight it, Jaskier just let himself be carried back to wherever Geralt had left Ciri squirrelled away in wait for their return.

“I’d never leave you behind Jask. You know that. Rest now and we’ll be back at camp soon,” Geralt murmured.

Feeling warm at Geralt’s words despite the situation he did just that. Letting himself drift and trying to focus on anything other than the pain he was in while Geralt carried him back to the most important thing in either of their lives.

[corvuserpens]

AH, good to see we’ve gone back to the cool effect that makes Geralt and Yennefer’s eye color look real instead of the cheap lenses from last season. Off to a good start!

Camera play fun during the fighting sequences, I love having the perspective of a pompous asshole who just lost his head! (No sarcasm).

And lmao, Yen and Geralt really be communicating through notes like they’re two children, jfc they’re ridiculous and I love them.

[reinvent-and-believe]

was no one going to tell me that DOUG COCKLES IS GOING TO BE GERALT IN THE NETFLIX LITTLE SACRIFICE ADAPTATION??????????

that we’re actually getting GAME GERALT AND NETFLIX JASKIER together for sirens of the deep????????????