#Female!Jaskier

[patroclusdefencesquad]

losing my FUCKING mind

[thewritersaddictions]

Request: The Witcher: Jaskier - Runaway Princess

Pairing: Jaskier x Princess!Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Summary: The shy princess is enthralled by the bard at a local tavern. Could it be everything she was looking for?

Warnings: Almost being killed, getting caught, smut, friends to lovers, fuck the hierarchy, falling in love, sacrificing everything for someone, passion, fluff, shyness,

A/n- @ firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 3.3 k

Requests Master List // The Witcher Master List // The Bard Master List

She was looking for something, anything that lead far away from the dimmed light of the castle. The gowns that fit to tight, for poor Y/n she may have a crown with diamonds and sapphires but her heart desired more. It yearned for something less showy, and more homey feeling. Sure she had a wonderful set of parents. A loving mother and father, but what they could not give their daughter was that true and rare feeling of walking outside the castle walls, being just another person among the streets. 

Once the handmaiden had left I was rushing for the windows, as I looked over the edge the ground came close and then far all in a moments time. I shook the image from my head, and went in search of better outside attire. The sheer night gown wasn’t going to cut it if I was going to make it down the side of my window and into the village. From my room the village looked small, the hundreds of flames that flickering back and forth in the the wind. 

Had I been stealing the young girls clothes that worked in the kitchen in exchange for extra coins so that I could go out in a disguise… of course I had it was the only way that I was going to be able to go without causing a very big scene. I only ever got to out once or twice a year. One of holidays and the other for any special announcements. I wanted to be where the people were, the bustle of feet on the dirty paths left dust to fall onto your shoes. I wanted nothing more then to feel normal even if it were just for one night. 

The girls clothes were a bit tight around my hips and my bust, but I could care less as I climbed down the stone wall of the castle. Landing feet first on wet, dewey grass. The air had a biting chill yet it didn’t scare me away from exploring the village. I made my way around guards, and others before finally making it to the gate. A gate was all the stood in my way of the village, the people the ones that loved us without knowing why. 

The side of the said huge gate was a small door, no bigger then my bedroom door. I twisted the handle, and pulled but it didn’t budge. Panic began to arise in from the pits of my chest. I swallowed hard when footsteps got louder. I jiggled the handle and with a push of my hand the door opened. I leaped through the doorway, shutting the door without thinking for another second. I was sure that I had thought this far yet standing here now. On the other side of the gate I was frozen with fear, and with the unknown ahead of me I stood there. Minutes passed by before the sheer fact that I was outside of the castle walls hit me like a ton of bricks. 

My cheeks bagan to burn with a smile so great, I don’t think I’d ever smiled like this, not even for a painting of my portrait. Confidence began to grow in my chest, and with that my feet were taking me on my first adventure to the village. The streets weren’t crowded as how I had imagined it, but the flames that were ablaze in almost every window told me life was still happening just inside right now. I walked the streets for what seemed like hours until the loud banter, and laughter came from a shabby looking building not far off the path. 

A wonky sign laid lopsided on the top of the building. Simply written it said ‘The Tavern’. The sounds of a few voices rang out from behind the doors, and windows. Drunken men and women stumbling out onto the path. Nonetheless the sounds of a beautiful voice dragged me nearer. The beautiful voice turned out to be singing. A tale from what I caught just the end of. “That’s my epic tale, Our champion prevailed, Defeated the villain, Now pour home some ale” His voice rang out across the tarven. He sat atop a table, a lute laid across his lap. He was so beautiful, or handsome whatever he was words could not describe, so I watched in awe. “Toss a coin to your Witcher, O Valley of Plenty!, O Valley of Plenty!, Toss a coin to your Witcher, A friend of humanity.” His riff was remarkable, and yet all I could do was stare at him from afar. Blue eyes staring out into the crowded floor of patrons in front of him.

I wanted deeply to talk to him, my bones ached for conversation with the man with blue eyes. Confidence oozed from him across the grimmy, and dirty floor stopping just before it would ever get to me. I ducked my head out of the tarven, and walked away from my growing obsession. Except I didn’t just walk away, I ran like a bat out of hell. I ran so far that I somehow managed toget myself right back at the tarven the next night, the following night after that, and so many more just hoping. Crossing my fingers that the bard would be there singing another one of his tales. Singing, drawing me in, closer and closer every night. 

Just for the off chance that the bard would be there. I had gotten so good at climbing from down my bedroom window that I knew exactly when I could leave, who was posted on guard and that the small door next to the gate was always left open. The plans of getting back in were always harder, or maybe I should that they were getting harder. With every chance I was able to descend down the castle walls the more aggriant I got. With every walk on the dirt path to the tarven the nights turns into days quicker and quicker. That meant the plans of getting back into the castle walls only got harder. 

Yet I cared not for as long as I got to gaze, and hear the sounds of his angelic voice ring through my ears. Most night it traveled behind me like a bird singing her morning song. It kept me calm before the morning started and the drag of the day took place. Where tight corsets, and snickering happened. 

It wasn’t till the summer night cooled down, and the fall began to liter the ground it it browned and reddned leafs that I was caught by none other then the bard himself. Now let me make this perfectly clearly I’m yes a shy person, but there’s something about the way he talked to me when he first laid his eyes on me. I had talked to men before, been courted about a dozen times. Never having worked out due to one thing or another. I had danced at court with a few genetlman, but never tallked to someone from outside that proteigous realm of people. Fear had settled, and I stuff my heels in the dirty waiting for the worst to happen. 

Except it didn’t, because why would the worst happen? 

“You aren’t new here,” The bard said as he snuck up from behind me. Shaking me with a sort of fear I wasn’t used to. I swallowed down the fear, and the scream that wanted to come out. “No.” That was a simple answer, but all the sudden I didn’t want to talk I just wanted to look at him. I wanted to be the invisible girl behind the crowd of people that looked but never dared to touch. “I see you every time I’m in here.” I nodded, “Oh how rude of me, the names Jaskier, and you are?” In a moments time I had turned looked him up and down. Now that he was standing right here, now that he was in touching distance. Everything was blown out of proportions for me. Lean frame but built good, a fresh dandelion smell wafted from his clothes 

The words that wanted to come out were stuck in the back of my very dry throat. He must have sensed my painc, “How about this we can get a drink, or we can get the hell out of this loud place maybe go for a walk?” Jaskier offered, I nodded my head, “I’ll take you meant the second thing.” I nodded again words still not wanting to come out in a coherent sentence. He lead the path through women and men standing around near the door, and out onto the dirt path. “This is better?” He asked me. “Yeah…” The words they were working now, he smiled brightly at me even though the dimmed flames and the moon light gave me little to work with I knew his face like the back of my hand. Many a night I just stare at him. 

“My names Y/n.” Finally getting up the courage to answer his first question ‘Well that’s a beautiful name, Y/n.” My names rolls off his lips with a sort of grace that most people don’t even have at court. “And I must say that it fits your beauty as well.” A chamer this man is, I swallow hard trying to will the heat that grows at the edges of my cheek bones. The conversation starts to grow into something I’d never had with anyone else. His voice is so soothing that when the first sight of sun rays hit the horizon I’m not even paying attention. 

When the blinding rays hit my eyes, the panic rises in my chest, “I’m sorry Jaskier I have to get going.” My words rushing out of my mouth, and Jaskier doesn’t understand what’s going on. “I’ll see you again right?’ He asks as I start to walk away. “Of course.” I say without even thinking, ‘And even if you don’t I’ll see you’ I think to myself as I run as fast as my feet with allow. 

This friendship grows every night I see him, he’s there in the tarven every night. Singing about tales of the past, and then the songs they turn into something else. Songs about her beauty, oh how she must be something from the heavens. As our frienship grows so does my confidence and one night without thinking as Jaskier is going on and on about something I lean in, kissing his lip ever so gently. He shuts up almost automatically. “What… what was that for?” He barely manages to get out. “You’re just so very handsome.” I mutter. My lips are burning with a sensation I’ve never felt before. 

Kissing Jaskier becomes the only thing I can think about, the only thing that I want to do. The thing that wakes me in the morning when the stray lights of morning sun hit my face, when I sit at lunch with my mother and father. It’s the driving force that has me climbing out the window even when the icy wind picks up and chills me to my bones. Summer having come and gone now that winter is here the outside conversation and little kisses become to hard to have. So Jaskier suggests we get a room, “A room?” I ask not understanding, “actually we don’t have to get it, since I’ve been paying for the room since I met you. It’s just above the tarven.” Jaskier says it as if it’s the most normal thing on the planet. 

The night with the searing wind hitting the window the rooms chills and the banter down the stairs is muted by the sounds of Jaskier kissing my lips and my neck. Something turns into more, and more turns into ecstasy. It’s all I want now, I have no want to leave when the morning hits the brim of the world. I just want Jaskier. I want his hands on me forever, I want his everything he has to give me. Yet when the church bells go off I have to leave him. I hasetly dress myself, rushing down stairs bumping into people. Barely making it to the castle walls, or through the smal door. My heart is racing as I leap into bed awaiting the regular knock on my bedroom door. 

“Princess Y/n, are you awake?” The small voices asks from the other side of the door. “You may come in.” I say trying to make my voice seems calm. That night I was right back out the window. The small gate and to him, “Where did you go?” Jaskier asks caring not that he had stopped his sings thrown down his lute. “I… I was…” The words can’t and won’t come out even if I tried to make them. “Did I do something? Was I too rough with you, please Y/n just explain.” Jaskier begs. “That was my first time jaskier.” I say in a whispered breath. His eyes widden, “Oh my dear sweet dove.” He says reaching over to grasps my cheek I melt into his touch. “I wish you would have said.” He mutters as he presses his forehead into mine. Nose brushing against nose. 

The night takes a turn for a sweet cuddle between a set of warmed sheets. Jaskier keeps his lips to himself for a little awhile then I want him to. “I’m sorry I didn’t say…” Jaskier hushes me before I can even finish my thought. “I should have reliazed my love, that’s on me. But I promise if you give me anothe chance I’ll be gently and kind with your mind, and body.” Jaskier says before pressing kisses into my exposed skin. His hands are searching for my skin, and my hands are searching for something to ground me to him. 

The moment is ripped away from the both of us, when a knock, a hard knock happens to befall the door. Jaskier looks up at me, then towards the door. “I must have forgotten my lute downstairs. I’ll be right back my love.” Jaksier says pressing a chaste kiss into my lips. He opens the door, I can see the flame shine in the metal of their armor. “Where is she?” He guard asks Jaskier. His voice booming hitting all the walls around me. Jaskier stands there dumbfounded. “Who?” Jaskier asks, and I bear witness to the fall of his expression when the guard tells him that they are indeed looking for the princess, “Princess Y/n, there have been reports of her here at this tarven. With you.” 

The moment still, and everything happens in slow motion. Jaskeir turning to look at me. I’m left with my mouth gaping open. “Your the princess.” He doesn’t sound angry, or really like anything. “I… didn’t mean for…” “Princess Y/n, you have to come back to the castle with…” Guards then see the state that I am in, clothes half off my clothes and in the bed, hair a mess. The next few things area blur, the chains that end up circling Jaskier wrist, and a guards drags the both of us back to the castle. 

That large gate opening. “Why?” Jaskier asks,m before a guards slaps him, and tell him he isn’t allowed to talk to me. I’m walked to the court where my father and mother are sitting there with worry written on their expression. While Jaskier is taken in the opposite direction. “My king, this man was seen with the princess. We caught him with her in bed.” The guard says prideful; of his actions.

“Why could you do this?’ My mother asks, “Because she’s spoiled rotten that’s why.” My father answers her question. “I’m not spoiled rotten.” I disagree, “You are to go to your room, and someone needs to bind her windows up. I will not have my daughter making a fool out of the crown for what a bard.” He spits venom out at me. I bit my inner cheek willing the tears to go awau but nothing helps, not when I know that I had caused all of this. Hours later a knock comes to my door, my mother comes in through the door  “Sweetheart.” I cry on my side thinking that I want is a moments time with jaskier. “It wasn’t his fault mother.” I tell her through hiccups, and shear breaths. 

“Oh my sweet darling daughter, do you love him?” She asks me, as she combs her nimble fingers through the ends of my hair. “Mother I do not know.” I honestly do not know, “Of course you know.” My mother says all knowing, she’s probably right but I’m not sure Ic an say the words. Say the truth outloud. “Do you think I will be able to see him?” I ask my mother, she thinks for a moment. “Your father probably won’t allow it my dear.” The ears start to bubble over the edge of my lashes. “But I’ll see what we can do.” She promises me. 

With that she kisses my forehead, and she’s out the door. I sit there for the rest of the night feeling sorry for myself, and Jaskier. I feel as if it’s all my fault. This feeling sits at the bottom on my stomach for what seems like weeks. It isn’t until those weeks turn into months does my mother come back. Giving me rather good, and bad news. “Sweetheart, I need to tell you a few things.” My mother said softly. “Yes mother.” “The boy is be putting to death, but you can talk to him before he goes to the gallows.” There was no warning or anything from her. “Right now?” I asked her, she nodded her. 

I had never rushed down the stairs of the hallways so fast to just get to one person. “Jaskier!” “Y/N!” I followed the sounds of his angelic voice. When I reached thebar that held him in the cell. “Oh god, you’re so… I’ll go get something to clean your face up.” I said, “NO please don’t go.” Jaskier pleaded with me. “They will be taking me tothe gallows soon. I just wanted to see that beautiful face of your before I meet the heavenly gods.” Jaskier words hushed. “Oh Jaskier this is all my fault, but I… I have a way to fix it all. I promise.” His brows furrowed together. “What do you mean?” worry seeping into his voice all for me while he was going to be killed. 

“Jaskier I would do anything for you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, or for well anyone that I loved.” Jaskier looked me up and down. “What are you saying Y/n?” He asked as he eyed my hand on my stomach. “Please don’t do something so irrationally. I’m not worth your jewels, your titles, or your throne.” Jaskier pleaded with me, I scoff at him. “Of course you are Jask. You are worth it all because I love you.”

Jaskier is brought to the gallows with my father looking proud of himself, and my mother  standing by his side. “Do you have any words to say before you are killed?” My father boasts. “I do.” The shock written over my fathers expression is hard to ignore. “Y/n sit down.” He demands, “No, I don’t care anymore. I will do anything for this man. Regardless of what you think I should do or not. I’m giving up my everything for him and our baby. I’d rather be happy and poor with Jaskier and our baby then be miserable and alone on the throne.” I said loud and clear, throwing my crown down to the ground. “Undo Jaskier chains, he and I will leave without a single word.” My father twitches with anger and as he’s about to burst at the seams my mother whispers into his ear. 

Moments later, “Undo his chains and escort them out.” My father demands and with that when Jasker is in my arms the kiss of life brings both of us back together. “A child?” He asks against my lips. “Our child Jaskier.”

Completed on: 09/24/23

Posted on: 09/24/23

The Bard-

[watch-that-writer-burnnn]

Would you care to dance, my dear?

Pairing: Jaskier x female reader

Summary: Jaskier has been invited to perform at a ball and has convinced the reader to attend with him, but she is uncomfortable - that is, until she sneaks into the garden for some air and Jaskier notices and joins her.

Words: 2.6K

Warnings: lots of fluff, reader implied to be female, close friends to lovers, lots of hugs and singing from the bard, mutual pining, reader has a lot of thoughts at the start but I promise there is heaps of soft bard fluff after!

A/n: So I was thinking about the lack of Jaskier fics with a demisexual reader, and came up with this. It certainly doesn't have to be read that way, but it was in the back of my mind when I was writing. The song lyrics are from Fair by The Amazing Devil, it's a beautiful song you should all go listen to. As always it's unedited, so apologies for errors. Hope you enjoy!

You hunched slightly in your seat as your surroundings continued to encroach on you. Loud chatter and laughter, the clinking of glasses, expensive shoes tapping against tiles, figures brushing past you on their way to the ballroom floor.

No one had asked you to dance yet, thank the gods. You were sure it had something to do with your miserable expression and the men's pants and doublet you wore, in stark contrast to the elaborate gowns and hairstyles of the other women in the room.

The night was only made more tolerable, of course, by your companion, Jaskier. An excellent bard, and your best friend, he'd asked you to accompany him to the party at which he'd been invited to perform. You were reluctant at first, preferring the quiet comfort of a tavern or a night under the stars, but he'd seemed so disappointed by your initial refusal, staring at you with those sad blue eyes until you finally caved. The clothing was another issue, as you owned nothing formal, hated dresses in fact, but he gladly lent you one of his simpler outfits, insisting you'd look wonderful in anything. You'd scoffed at his words, but were appreciative of his consideration for your comfort.

He danced about the room, strumming a playful tune on his lute, grinning from ear to ear as he winked at various party goers. You rolled your eyes, unable to help a smirk as you watched. Ever the performer, it wasn't only his music, but his whole manner that served to entertain the guests. He always looked beautiful in this setting, radiating happiness, thoroughly in his element. His blue doublet was open, the low cut shirt beneath revealing a smattering of hair on his chest, which heaved as he sung. His boyish fringe was swept across his face, which seemed almost sculpted, the golden glow of the many candles in the room accentuating his delicate features. Then there were his eyes. You loved his eyes, a mesmerising blue, always seeming to convey such an unbelievable level of meaning and emotion, drawing you in the longer you looked.

Noticing you staring his way, he gladly returned the smile you didn't realise you'd given him, his eyes seeming to light up even more upon meeting yours. You gave him an encouraging nod, and he grinned, launching into another song. At least he wouldn't feel guilty for dragging you along if you pretended to be enjoying yourself.

As the night dragged on, you found it harder to maintain your false appearance of positivity. You fiddled with the undoubtedly expensive food on your plate, unsure exactly of what it was and unwilling to find out. You had rejected a couple of young men who'd offered you dances, finding yourself as completely uninterested as usual, instead mumbling apologies and excuses about a sore leg. As the guests became louder, drunker, rowdier, you finally stood abruptly, in dire need of fresh air. You threw a final glance in the direction of the bard, who was currently preoccupied with entertaining a gaggle of young women with what was most likely some dramatic tale of dreamy lovers. He shouldn't notice if you stepped outside for a few minutes. Taking a deep breath, you wove your way towards the large double doors leading to the gardens beyond.

***

Taking deep breaths of fresh air, you wandered between rows of brightly coloured flowers, running your fingers through the petals as their sweet scents brushed across your nose. You manoeuvred between carefully trimmed hedges until you reached a low marbled bench, placed before an intricately carved fountain with mythical figures intertwined beneath the rippling water. Sitting down with a sigh, you ran your fingers through your messy hair, a nervous habit you'd never quite managed to shake. You didn't know why you were so averse to these kinds of gatherings. The people? The clothes? The food? Maybe it was just the atmosphere, the fake smiles, the superficial laughter, the whispered barbs whenever someone turned their back.

Or maybe you were just paranoid. Maybe all these people really were enjoying themselves. Maybe you should be too - you were, after all, invited as a guest, arriving with your dearest friend, a man for who many here would give a great deal in order to take your place at his side. Many of the women he'd thrown nonchalant winks and smiles at tonight would be jealous of a relationship which doesn't actually exist, like many others who'd assumed the pair of you to be lovers simply by observing your innate closeness. You'd never understand the way all those women could so quickly fall for him, for anyone, really. He'd often encouraged it, of course - less so now, you'd noticed, but certainly when you'd first met. He seemed to fall in love with everyone, and they always seemed immediately infatuated with him in return. While his reputation wasn't as extensive as he'd have people believe, he had a reputation nonetheless. Still, it was something you hadn't even considered when you'd first met, and Jaskier seemed just as glad of your friendship as he would have been had you sought something more.

Of course, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't grown to find him quite attractive, beautiful in spirit and appearance, with a kind, empathetic soul. You found your thoughts drifting, lulled into a daze by the soft trickle of water from the fountain and the distant chirping of night insects. You really loved him, that much you knew. He was your constant companion, your closest friend, your bard. But recently you couldn't help but find yourself wondering if he could be... not something more, that implied your friendship was of far less significance than it was, but... something different. Why now? You'd been friends for years. Why couldn't you have had these feelings and acted on them from the start? Or why couldn't they have just stayed away completely? You groaned, frustrated with your own thoughts, placing your head in your hands.

"Are you alright?"

You turned at the voice, which was deep, melodic, instantly recognisable, and laced with concern.

Jaskier stood uncertainly behind you, absentmindedly fiddling with the strap of his lute, pouting thoughtfully as he awaited your response.

"Oh I'm... I'm fine, Jask. Sorry, I didn't mean to distract you from your performance-"

"You've nothing to be sorry about, my dear," he insisted, moving to take a seat at your side, resting his lute carefully on the bench beside him. You sat in silence for a moment, the soft sounds of the night filling the air, before he spoke again.

"If anyone should be sorry, it's me. I know you hate these sorts of things, I..." He looked down, tugging at the frilly cuffs of his shirt. "It was selfish of me to drag you along."

"Don't be ridiculous, Jask. I agreed to come, didn't I? I liked the idea of spending the night with you," you felt your face redden at the poor choice of words, but chose to stumble forwards over your mistake, "I- it's a nice evening, and..." you reached down beside you, grasping one of his hands in your own. "... And I really am glad to be here with you."

He met your eyes as the corner of his mouth quirked up in a cheeky smile that slowly spread across his entire face. It was infectious, and you quickly found yourself beaming back.

"I'm happy to hear it, dear heart," he said, before shuffling closer, leaning in to rest his head on your shoulder. His fluffy hair, which shone a golden brown in the moonlight, brushed against your neck and chin, making you laugh as he squirmed about, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Are you going to wriggle around like that all night?" You teased. "Don't you have a performance you need to get back to?"

"Everything I need is right here," he murmured against your neck, voice far more gravelly than you'd expected, his hot breath sending goosebumps across your skin. That was... That was new. You hesitated a second, before leaning back against him, the warmth of his partially exposed chest pressing into your shoulder as you rested your head against his.

"Can we just... Stay like this a while?" He breathed, eyes fluttering shut.

"Of course," you murmured back, closing your own eyes.

You enjoyed each other's silent company and the warmth of your bodies pressed together as the moon crept higher in the sky. Absentmindedly, you fiddled with his fingers, lacing them between your own. Reaching up with your other hand, you ran your fingers through his hair, drawing what sounded almost like a low moan from the bard, which was quickly interrupted by a cough as he stood abruptly.

"What's wrong?" You asked, staring up at him, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. Gods, you didn't know how he could have looked any more beautiful than before, but he did. The night cast shadows across his pale skin, accentuating his delicately sculpted features with a soft blue glow. His eyes seemed to burn with energy as they stared back into your own, and you noticed a deep red glowing through parts of his ruffled hair in the light of the moon. His doublet was crumpled from where he'd leant against you, and the low cut shirt beneath was pulled far to one side, revealing a teasingly large amount of his chest. You forced yourself to tear your eyes away as he responded.

"Oh, it's... It's nothing. I... Do you... That is..." He stopped for a second, composing himself, before his face lit up, seeming to have thought of something. An embarrassed smile broke through his features as he walked up to you, placing one hand behind his back and outstretching the other towards you.

"Would you care to dance, my dear?"

Heart pounding in your chest, you smiled, before reaching up to take his hand.

"I- I would love to, my sweet bard."

He let out a nervous laugh of relief at your response, stepping back as you rose from your seat, eyes locked on each other. His fingers, calloused from years of music, tenderly grasped your own, before his hands slid down your sides to find purchase at your waist, while you placed your arms either side of his head. You held your breath, the contact making you shiver, your heart fluttering in your chest.

What is wrong with me? It's not like this is the first time we've been this close. We've shared a horse, a bed, even danced together a couple of times at village fairs. Why should this be any different?

Too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice your lack of composure, Jaskier confidently led you around the small patch of ground hidden between hedges, your own natural dance floor, with the sighing wind, bubbling water and singing crickets providing the music. He absentmindedly bit his lip as his mind swirled, heart thumping just as fast as yours.

Why am I doing this? Of course we're close, we always have been, but this is different and I know it. I'm an idiot, a hopeful idiot. She's never been interested in me, and, as much as it wounds me, I promised myself to never let my feelings get in the way of our friendship. Promised to never tell her just how deeply in love with her I am.

Jaskier pushed his troubled thoughts aside. He wanted to enjoy this moment, and wanted you to as well. Besides, maybe he could find out, once and for all, how you truly felt about him. Or at least, ease his aching heart by finally revealing his own feelings, regardless of your response.

Taking a deep breath, steadying his trembling body, he slowly leant towards you, until his lips barely brushed your ear. A pleasant warmth shot through your stomach at his unexpected touch, and you closed your eyes with a hum of contentment, welcoming his body as your arms pulled him closer.

Softly, he began to sing as the pair of you continued to sway in the moonlight, words raw and full of pure, unbridled emotion as he murmured them into your ear.

"It's what my heart just yearns to say, in ways that can't be said..."

You tightened your grip, clinging to him in silent awe as he continued the song, each new lyric causing heat to rise to your skin in the cool night air.

"Oh, how, oh, how unreasonably in love I am with everything you do, I'll spend my days so close to you, 'cause if I'm standing here, maybe everyone will think I'm alright."

You'd stopped moving now, not daring to pull away, confused by the tide of emotions flooding your mind. What was this song? You'd never heard it before, but it seemed to come straight from the heart. Was it possible...

"It's not fair, it's not fair how much I love you"

At these words, something clicked. You kicked yourself for not realising sooner. How could you be so blind? Forget your own emotions, you knew you hadn't always been in love with Jaskier. But him? He'd been infatuated with you from the start. Yet he'd kept quiet about his feelings, until he knew they were reciprocated. Your poor, kind, beautiful bard.

You closed what little distance was left between you two, burying your head into his chest. His voice trailed off as he gently slid his hands further around your waist, returning the embrace. He gave a deep sigh, hugging you as though he never wanted to let you go, nestling his head against your neck.

Eventually, you felt his lips brush your jaw as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, shining eyes filled with adoration, an expression of deep satisfaction resting on his face.

"That was... That was..." He breathed, fingers gently trailing across your back.

"It was beautiful," you finished, fingers twirling the fluffy brown curls at the back of his neck.

"I'm glad you liked it," he said softly, a half smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, as his eyes flitted across your features, eventually dropping to your lips.

"This feels too good to be true..." He mumbled, closing his eyes as he gently brought his lips forward to brush yours.

"Yet here we are," you whispered against his mouth, before finally pressing your lips into his own with a sigh.

He kissed you carefully, deliberately, the heat of your bodies pressed so close together serving only to fuel the motion. You slid your hands up the back of his shirt and he moaned into your mouth, sending another wave of warmth through your body. You allowed him to deepen the kiss, his tongue lapping and darting into your mouth as he made a series of small, pleasured noises, whimpering and gasping as you continued playing with his hair.

When you finally seperated, you were both breathing heavily, hearts pounding. Jaskier's appearance made you weak, as you examined his lust darkened eyes, the soft blush creeping across his cheeks, and his puffy, crimson lips. He looked so ruffled, like a startled baby animal, that you couldn't help but giggle. You moved to rest your forehead against him, his eyelashes briefly kissing your cheek as he moved to wrap his arms around your waist.

"I love you, Jaskier," you said, running your thumb across his cheek, causing him to hum softly at the touch. You hesitated, grinning, before adding, "thanks for waiting for me."

"Of course, dear heart," he said, cheeky smile once again tugging at the corner of his mouth, before adding more seriously, "You're more important to me than you could ever know."

"I think I have some idea," you smirked, grabbing him by his shirt collar and pulling his lips into your smile.

[soldateins]

"Don't Touch My Lute."

Jaskier x Female Reader Fluff Oneshot

Summary: Y/n has only been traveling with Geralt and Jaskier for a short while, but she and Jaskier have known one another months before that. Being a bard herself, Y/n knows of Jaskier and just how utterly brilliant he is. She has even seen him perform a few times in Novigrad at the Chameleon - though he had never seen her perform, only rumours. This knowledge causes her to feel anxious and refuse continuously when he asks her to play for them every few nights to truly hear her talent. What happens when one night, Jaskier leaves to wash up in the river, and Y/n decides to pick up his lute and sing but he returns before she finishes playing and hears her?

Notes:

A/N: I never write, I’ve written 2 fics total and I’m not amazing so.. Help is cool but don’t bash me plz, this ain’t my job and I only do it for plain old fun, cool? Hope you enjoy!! Ps I’m in love with both Jaskier and Geralt I need helppppp

“Would you both fancy making our way to an inn once we’ve washed up?”

Jaskier asked Geralt and Y/n as they walked along the dirt path in the direction of the nearest river. Geralt’s brows furrowed slightly as he directed Roach’s reins in the right direction, thinking. Y/n’s walk turned into a skip, a smile now plastered across her lips, “Uhh, yes, please! We’ve not eaten a proper supper in 3 days! I’ll even provide the coin!” Jaskier gasped, pressing his palm against his intricately detailed doublet, “No, no, my Lady Y/n - I shall pay!” He bowed. Geralt rolled his eyes, exhaling through his nose, “Always the hero.” He murmured to himself as he watched the bard catch up to the skipping woman.

They found a clearing where they began to set down all of their belongings. Jaskier and Geralt each sat on their own bedrolls whilst Y/n placed herself on the floor, leaning against a rock. After a while of watching the bard write poems in his notebook, she tilted her head and softly inquired, “Might I play your lute, Jaskier? I’ve not touched one in almost two months, I left mine in Novigrad..” Her eyes glistened in the evening glow and she crossed her legs. Jaskier hummed for a long time, looking into her blue eyes, before settling on, “Yes, as long as you sing to us.” His pink lips dipped into a smirk and he shot a quick look towards Geralt to gauge his reaction. Despite not looking up, his eyes and eyebrows gave away that he was interested. Y/N’s nose wrinkled up, “No, thank you.” Geralt’s left eyebrow rose and he looked up from writing an entry about Forktails into his bestiary, “You sing?” Y/n took a deep breath and shifted from side to side. Jaskier rose from his bedroll, slapped his thighs, bent forward slightly and raised his eyebrows at Y/n, “Yes, she does - However, I have not yet heard her despite being told brilliant things of the Angelic Y/n of Novigrad!”

“You’ve seen me perform before!” Y/n huffed, folding her arms and leaning back against the rock. Jaskier’s face contorted in amusement and his voice came out somewhat petty, “Through a window. I couldn’t hear you.” Y/n grumbled, “Bet you could.” Jaskier picked up his lute and held it out right in front of Y/n’s face, the shiny wood almost tapping the tip of her nose, “Come on, just once!” “No!” Y/n spat, “Why?”, Jaskier put the lute back, the vibration of its strings due to impact causing an ugly chord.

“Can you not just go and wash up now, Jaskier?! I’ve no need to give you a reason!” Y/n raised her voice slightly, her heart slowly making its way into her throat. Jaskier pursed his lips, thinking of how to respond, lifted his finger into the air, gritted his teeth, dropped his arm, and turned back to his belongings with an exasperated sigh.

Y/n pulled an apple from her knapsack, taking a big bite. Jaskier began unpacking his linen towel along with a wooden hairbrush and some other things, “Right, I’m having a wash in the river, no touching my lute, Y/n. Not unless you want to initiate an impromptu performance?” His icy blue eyes narrowed and he flashed a toothy smile, targeting Y/N’s and her chewing slowed. She sighed and spoke with a full mouth, spitting slightly at Jaskier, “No, bard.” Jaskier’s eyes widened in disgust, “That makes one of us. Someone’s touchy tonight..” He spoke in a hushed tone as he walked off towards the river. Geralt smirked but kept quiet, enjoying the dynamic between the two.

Geralt sat silently with his right leg bent at the knee and his arm resting on it, sketching. Y/n shook her head, groaned, got up and made her way over to Geralt, sitting down next to him to watch him fill his bestiary in peace as they did most nights, “What is that thing? Ff-fog-let? Wh- what’s one of those?” She leaned over his left side to get a better look at his sketch, brushing shoulders. Usually, Geralt would slowly lean away, but he liked Y/n. Maybe even had a soft spot for her. They’d gotten as close as a lady bard and witcher could have after only knowing one another for eight months - and Jaskier wasn’t much of a fan of that at the moment. “Why don’t you want to sing if you’re known for performing so well?” He frowned, tilting his head to look her in the eye,

“Because Geralt, have you heard Jaskier sing? I don’t want to sing to him. He’s too good, I’m just okay.” She spoke with a slight angry heat, perhaps towards herself, blinking a few times, and diverting her eyes away from Geralt’s piercing ones by looking elsewhere on his face, taking in his strong features, especially when he is pulling a face such as that, “Yet you always jest about your brilliant skill?”

“Yes but.. That’s just for fun, I’d die if Jaskier heard me. He’d..” She paused, debating whether to continue, flickering her gaze up to Geralt’s, “He’d?” Geralt asked, raising his brows, “He’d.. He’d hate it, he’d go off me. I’d rather let him hear the reviews and not dare let him hear it himself. He’s legendary, I can’t compare myself to him! He’d laugh and I’d be broken. Or he’d lie and say I was good to please me. Especially now.” Geralt hummed, leaning back a bit. Something had begun that nobody could stop. Y/N had fallen for Jaskier. Geralt decided that the best option for this moment was to leave. He arose, unpacking his towel, gave Y/n an unsure but calm expression, and left for the river.

Y/n was left ruminating in her own self-loathing and confusion. She got up, set her bedroll onto the floor and lay down, away from Jaskier’s, nearest to Roach as she enjoyed her company. “Oh, fuck it.” She quickly got up, snatched Jaskier’s lute from his belongings, positioning herself on her bedroll, cross-legged, facing out into the forest. She started to play, first quietly, and once she knew she wasn’t heard, a bit louder.

A few minutes later, as Jaskier and Geralt made their way back from the river, they started to hear music, “What- What is that? Geralt?” Jaskier spun around a few times as he tried to discern where it was coming from. Geralt’s lower eyelids rose in amusement. Jaskier took in an overly dramatic breath, “She. Took. My LUTE!” He spat possessively and began to take off before Geralt lunged forward, wrapping his big hand around Jaskier’s left arm and yanking him backward, earning a squeak from the bard, “Jaskier.” He growled, “What? It’s mine! She wouldn’t play anyw-!”

“Listen.”

They became quiet, inching closer to the sound until they could finally hear clearly. After a few moments, Jaskier’s mouth opened in awe. They made their way closer to the clearing to listen. Geralt watched Jaskier, he was leaning his head and hand against a tree, patiently listening, with the most genuine loving expression he had seen on the bard yet.

“She’s ethereal, isn’t she? I knew she was good.” Jaskier’s mouth was hardly moving as he whispered, trying to make as little sound as possible so that he could listen, “Why would she keep such beauty from me?”

“She’s scared.” Geralt said under his breath, “She’s.. She’s what? She’s scared?” Jaskier’s brows furrowed in confusion, “She doesn’t want to perform in front of you because she doesn’t believe that she’s good enough. She said you’d laugh.” Geralt shrugged and shook his head, “I can’t believe it.” Jaskier’s eyes were staring at the forest floor, melancholic but still heavy with emotion. Y/n smiled, gently setting the lute down, “Is that where he left it, Roach? I think that’s where he left it. I hope so. I don’t want to be singing to him any time soon.”

Jaskier crept his way out from within the trees, “You just did.” He gave a friendly smile and a pathetically nervous wave of his hand. Y/n sucked in a big breath, “Jaskier..?” Her eyes were wide and piercing as if she were a child being caught carving into the house walls by her parent, “I listened, Lady Y/n. You have a beautiful voice.” Jaskier swallowed anxiously, approaching as if she were a wild rabbit about to flee, which she was, “No. You don’t mean that.” Y/n got up, retrieving her towel from her bag, clutching it to her chest, trying to steady her breath, “I’m sorry for using your lute, Jask. I- I just wanted to play, I’ve missed it.” Geralt made his way out from within the trees, “Calm down, Y/n.” His voice was soft yet stern, “I can’t, Geralt. Sorry, Jaskier..” “Please, don’t apologise, that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard!” Jaskier’s voice got louder the further away Y/N got as she panicked and ran to the river, Jaskier’s eyes followed her then made their way to Geralt, brows furrowing heavily, “Are you going to tell me what just bloody happened? I was being nice! To a bard! And I meant it!” He raised his shoulders and eyebrows in sync. Geralt's eyelids lowered, his face muscles relaxing, “Surprising.” Geralt sat back down on his bedroll, folding his arms and looking at the stars. However, when he glanced over, Jaskier was looking at him expectantly, “What?” Geralt asked lazily, “What do you mean ‘what’? Tell me what’s wrong with Y/n?”

“Fine.”

Y/n exhaled heavily as she entered the water to bathe. The cool water helping her anxious feelings towards Jaskier, “Gods, I shouldn’t have touched his lute at all. Fuck. What if his feelings change?” She sat, speaking to the trees, a light breeze falling over her frame along with the moonlight, and the hairs on her skin pricking upwards. After what seemed like an hour, she plucked up the courage to get dry and dressed and return to their miniature camp. Entering the clearing with a big breath, the first thing she laid her now tired eyes upon was Geralt meditating. She smiled, wishing she had the mental power to sit in silence for that long. Looking to the right she saw Jaskier.. Fast asleep. Snoring. Incredibly loudly. Her chest felt heavy and loving as she stood watching him sleep. Turning towards her own bedroll, suddenly feeling tired, she took in a soft gasp. Jaskier’s lute was resting on her pillow with a handwritten note with many words scribbled onto it but the ones most notable were “I did mean it. You can play my lute anytime, beautiful lady Y/n.” Y/N sighed, smiled widely and that night, slept with Jaskier’s lute by her side.

[eggcompany]

The princess Jaskier x prince geralt fic is about to get rated E

cause I'm like a whore and stuff. You should have expected this.

[lachicavoltron333]

"They say she was beautiful...

Strong, determined...

A protective, and caring mother to her children..

Tell me Geralt, how many times has she cried for you?

How many times did she pray for your safe return?

How many times did she show you loyalty and trust?

Did you even know how much she loved you, Geralt ?"

[hidden-misthios]

Something in the Orange (part 3)

Pairing: Lambert x female!sorceress!reader

Word count: 3 427

Summary: When Geralt of Rivia disappears, Jaskier has no choice but to ask his best friend for help. Although struggling with her own issues, Y/N agrees and they join Vesemir and the others in Kaer Morhen. The search might be difficult but not as difficult as the certain redheaded witcher who keeps challenging her.

A/n: I’m sorry for the long wait AGAIN but the last two months were wild. Enjoy! 

Part 1 Part 2

After a couple of failed attempts, impatient mumbles from Ciri and words of encouragement from Jaskier, Y/N did it. The portal was right there in front of them. She felt dizzy and could feel her energy draining incredibly fast but she was awfully proud of herself. Making portals was always risky but this one seemed completely stable. The only problem is going to be keeping it open until everyone crosses.

“Go!” Y/N yells but no one looks like they are ready to go first.

Lambert, who was standing closest to the portal, moves a step back.

“I’m not going to be able to do this whole day. Go.” Y/N looks at him, keeping her arms steady in front of her.

“Why me? So you can close it as soon as I cross over?” he crosses arms. Y/N rolls her eyes and turns around to her best friend.

“Jaskier. Please.” she looks at him with hope in her eyes. Jaskier hesitates for a bit, but slowly nods.

As soon as he moves a step forward, Lambert scoffs and slightly shakes his head.

Jaskier doesn’t say anything but steps forward again.

“Fine, I’ll go first. Save your precious troubadour ass from potential downfall.” he says and steps forward, standing in Jaskier’s way. Jaskier slightly frowns at him, but doesn’t say anything, as if he’s trying to read his mind.

“Go!” Y/N repeats before both men could say anything else.

Lambert glances at her then steps in front of the portal. The portal makes a loud sound but nothing happens as Lambert’s hand slowly touches the dimmed veil. He hesitates for a second before finally stepping inside.

Y/N is holding her breath.

There’s no response from the portal when Lambert fully disappears. Portal is still stable. Y/N feels her heart beating like she just ran a marathon.

He crossed safely. He’s fine.

“Next!” she says, her voice shaky.

Jaskier, who was already on his way when Lambert stopped him, moves forward again.

His fits are nervously clenched but he looks determined.

Once he’s gone, the rest of the group looks a bit more certain now. Portal is still stable, but Y/N feels the energy shifting slightly. Ciri moves closer as soon as Jaskier is through.

“We will have to speed things up a bit.” Y/N tells Vesemir when Ciri crosses over without a word.

She could feel the portal taking more and more energy from her. Y/N wasn’t sure was Ciri’s magic somehow to be blamed for that but she didn’t want to question it any longer.

Vesemir nods and moves forwards immediately. He knew what this meant. Portal was going to be unstable soon.

As Vesemir passes through, Y/N feels something warm on her lips. Her nose was already bleeding.

Shit.

She still had Coen and herself to go through. Portal could go unstable any minute now.

“Coen, wait!” she calls for him. The witcher halts and turns to her. “We need to go together!” she tells him, with hint of panic in her voice.

Coen is visibly confused but nods in silence. He joins her and slowly they start to approach the portal. Y/N’s arms are slightly shaking at this point and her vision is getting blurry.

Come on, you can do this.

As they are about to enter, portal suddenly shatters.

“Jump!” Y/N screams, flinging herself towards. The white light surrounds her and forces her to close her eyes.

The pressure inside her own mind is insane. It lasts only for couple of seconds and then suddenly Y/N feels the ground beneath her and the heaviness is gone. She dares to open her eyes, fully prepared for the worst.

But there she is, standing in front of small rescue group.

Relief hits her and she falls down on her knees. All of her energy was gone. It’s going to take days before she’s fully healed. The energy drained from her by the portal was equivalent to an entire month's worth of effort for an oneiromancer’s work.

Jaskier runs towards her, grabbing her around the shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” brushing the blood off her lips. Jaskier immediately offers her a handkerchief and Y/N takes it.

“Where is Coen?” Lambert asks. Y/N looks at him and then around herself. He wasn’t there. Her heart sinks.

“Where is he?!” Lambert asks, this time, much louder. Y/N manages to stand up with Jaskier’s help.

“He didn’t-”

Lambert is standing in front of her, lifting his arms and aiming for Y/N’s shoulders. Or neck. Y/N couldn’t be too sure.

Whatever his goal was, Lambert was stopped by Vesemir, who suddenly appeared by his right side.

“That’s enough, let her explain.” Vesemir gives him a warning look. “Y/N.” he looks at her now.

“Coen should be just fine. He didn’t jump on time so the portal closed in front of him.” Y/N says, finally leaning on her own feet without Jaskier’s help. Her friend still stood near, monitoring her every movement. “He is unharmed. Probably just upset he didn’t cross over.” she adds.

“If he’s not-”

“Oh, won’t you give me a break! I just held the portal open for 5 people. He is alive and well!” Y/N snaps at redheaded witcher. Lambert’s brows furrowed but he didn’t say anything this time. He turns his back on her in utter silence.

“Now…where are we?” Jaskier quietly asks, looking around. Everyone else does the same. Unfortunately, there isn't much to go on. The eerie woodland lay shrouded in an ethereal mist, its gnarled trees stretching their skeletal branches toward an ominous sky. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and moss. Jaskier, who was still standing next to Y/N, slightly trembles when a distant howl fills their ears.

“Maybe it’s just me, but this doesn’t look like Hengfors.” Ciri mumbles. Y/N feels the wave of shame overwhelm her. She really believed she was powerful enough to do this right.

It was still an early morning but the dense, dark clouds hindered the sunlight from piercing through. With each passing moment, the mist enveloping them grew denser and heavier.

“No, but we have to find our way there.” Vesemir adds calmly. Y/N slowly makes a step forward and approaches him.

“I’m sorry-” Y/N says. Vesemir’s yellow eyes stared at her with a piercing gaze. “Do not apologize, Y/N. You helped us.”

“We don’t even know where we are.” Y/N says feeling the slight dizziness overcome her again.

“We will get to the closest town. We should head west.” he says, this time to the whole group, which meant their discussion was over.

Vesemir took the lead and Ciri followed, tightly gripping the hilt of her silver sword.

Y/N nervously swallowed. Despite taking a deep breath, the dizziness persisted. She wouldn’t dare to stop the group for her own troubles. She had to walk.

Jaskier, who remained by her side, regarded her with a gaze filled with concern. Y/N felt even worse. She didn’t want anyone’s pity for her own failure.

“I’m fine. We should go.” she tells him.

“Can you walk?” he asks, obviously not convinced. Y/N nods and takes a few steps forward. The bard lets out a sigh, refraining from uttering a word, and began trailing behind Ciri.

Y/N's attention was drawn to Lambert's figure, catching a glimpse of him behind her with the corner of her eye. She didn’t like him walking behind her but had no energy or desire to fight him again.

The group walked in a tranquil silence, enveloped by the ambient sounds of nature that surrounded them. Even Jaskier remained quiet, occupied with his own thoughts and worries about their current location.

But no one blamed Y/N. Not even the red headed witcher at the end of the line.

Y/N fixated on her own steps, each one proving more difficult than the last. All she wanted now was to lay down and sleep for days.

***

After a few hours of (mostly) silent walking, the landscape around them began to change - woodland was replaced by eerie swamp. Y/N took a deep breath. The air became infused with a pungent aroma, carrying the unmistakable scent of decaying vegetation and stagnant water that defined the wetland.

Muscles in Y/N’s legs were screaming. Her whole body did. She had reached the point where she truly didn't know how much longer she could continue walking. When she finally raised her gaze from the ground, which had captivated her attention for the past half hour, she came to the realization that she had fallen behind. Jaskier now walked at least 10 meters ahead of her, leaving her with the undeniable awareness that her pace had slowed down.

“We have to pick up the pace. We don't want to be trapped in a swamp when it gets dark.” Vesemir shouted from upfront. Lambert, who was still walking behind Y/N quietly, didn’t say anything, but Y/N heard his steps getting closer to her now. When he finally bypassed her, Y/N felt helpless. Her own feet were betraying her. She struggled to focus on each step, but her vision was blurring with every moment.

She abruptly stopped. At last, her body yielded to the unforgiving grasp of exhaustion, and her knees crumpled to the ground with a muffled thud. Y/N’s eyes already closed when she felt someone’s hands catch her around her waist.

As her consciousness slipped away, she was embraced by the sudden darkness.

***

She slowly regained consciousness, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal the unfamiliar surroundings. Groggy and disoriented, Y/N took a deep breath, feeling her body gradually come back to life.

“Y/N!” she heard a familiar voice next to her. She moves her head to the side. Jaskier lowered himself into a crouch beside her, immediately helping her to sit up. Y/N looks around.

By the sound surrounding them, she was sure they were still in the wetlands. A disappointed sigh escaped her lips.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jaskier asks her, monitoring her face as if she was about to faint again.

“I didn’t want us to stop walking.” she mutters, trying to get up on her unsteady feet. It was pitch darkness around them, the only light sources were small lanterns placed around their improvised campsite.

“Sit down! We won't be going anywhere until morning.” he scolds her.

“Jaskier, I’m fine. We can go.”

“That’s what you said the last time and then fainted into that revolting mud.” he retorted with a tinge of frustration in his voice.

Suddenly Y/N remembers the last moment before the world blackened in front of her eyes. She instinctively touches her waist, as if expecting to still feel the lingering touch of hands upon it.

“But you got me. I didn’t fell.” she says, unsure in her own words. Was it Jaskier?  Or was she imagining the whole thing?

“I-I didn’t.” Jaskier says reluctantly, his eyes suddenly looking away from her. Y/N frowns.

“Jaskier…”

“Fine! It was him!” he finally confessed, lowering his voice. Then his gaze shifted to Y/N’s left side. She slowly turns her head.

Lambert.

He rested against a fallen ash tree; arms crossed over his chest with his head slightly bowed down. He was asleep. Or at least looked like he was. Y/N wasn’t even sure if witchers ever properly slept.

“Him?” Y/N whispers but there was panic in her voice.

“Yes, him.” Jaskier says impatiently, still looking at the redheaded witcher. “He carried you for an hour without a word. When I insisted that I should be the one to carry you, he told me to get lost. Can you imagine!” he says, not even bothering to hide his reluctance.

Just as Y/N was about to voice her complaint, the witcher's sudden movement startle them both, causing them to jerk back in surprise.

“In fact, I believe my exact words were ‘sod off’.” Lambert mutters to Jaskier, but his gaze is pierced on Y/N. Y/N’s mouth open but she’s speechless.

Why on earth would he carry me?

Jaskier stood up. With an indignant huff, he straightened his posture. "Well then, aren't you a delightful specimen of manners." he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lambert glances at him with a sardonic smirk, clearly amused. “Happy to be of service.”

“Alright, now that’s settled...” Y/N interveners, still feeling uncomfortable. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere near Creyden or Luton. Braa river is this way.” Lambert turns the point of his dagger to the north.” We won’t be sure until the morning.”

Y/N took a moment to realize where they are. “So…I didn’t mess up.”

“What do you mean ‘mess up?” Jaskier asks with confusion. Y/N finally manages to get up on her own feet. She located her leather bag just a few steps away from her. Thankfully, she carried a map with her!

“Hengfors,” she exclaims optimistically as she crouched down, “is just right behind us.” Y/N lowers the map on the somewhat of a flat stone. With a quick motion, she straightens the crumpled piece of paper. Jaskier and Lambert appear beside her, each holding a lantern to illuminate the map.

“If your assumptions are right, we should be right here.” she points to a blank part of the paper, surrounded by four cities – Blaviken, Luton, Jamurlak and Hengfors.

“Fuck.” Lambert quietly says, turning around. Y/N’s optimism suddenly vanishes.

“Isn’t that good? We know where we are.” she asks, standing up again. Lambert doesn’t look at her, but somewhere in the black void that was surrounding them.

“These roads are feeding grounds for kikimoras.” he mutters, as the flickering glow of the lantern bounced off the contours of his stern face.

“Of course they are.” Jaskier anxiously uttered his words, his throat tight with tension.

Y/N felt the chills down her spine. She never encountered any monsters. She had no idea how to fight. She didn’t need to do that in Novigrad anyway.

“I’m sure you have plenty of experience in fighting monsters with Geralt, bard.” Lambert mocks him, lowering the lantern on the ground.

“Actually I’m- “

“Don’t answer that.” Y/N interrupts him. “Where are Ciri and Vesemir?” she decides to change the subject.

“They are taking turns guarding the camp.” Lambert answers and settles down on the very same tree where Y/N first spotted him when she woke up. “My shift just ended so excuse me for a next hour or two.”

Y/N and Jaskier return to the spot where Y/N woke up and they sit down on her bedroll.

“You should sleep too, you know.” Y/N tells her friend. Jaskier shakes his head immediately. 

“Not a chance. I’ll watch over you.”

 “I just woke up. You should be the one sleeping.” she insists.

“I’m not-”

“You don’t own me anything, Jaskier.” she gently nudges his arm, smiling at her friend.

“I do. And least I can do is let you sleep.”

“You won’t be of any use to me tomorrow if you’re going to be tired.” Y/N continues. Jaskier lets out a sigh. Heavy-lidded and burdened with the weight of exhaustion, his eyes were veiled by a haze of fatigue.

“Fine. But only for a few minutes.” he says, leaning against the log behind him. “Promise you’ll wake me up.”

***

Y/N, of course, did not wake up the bard. She sat there, surrounded by the darkness of the eerie swamp and just watched. Her surroundings were mostly quiet – occasional hoots or croaking from shallow waters. The night seemed peaceful which calmed her nerves.

As the early light of dawn emerged on the horizon, Vesemir and Ciri made their way back to their camp. Despite their appearance of alertness, Y/N knew that the lack of rest was taking its toll on them.

“Someone’s finally awake.” Ciri says with a mocking tone, but the smile on her face was friendly.

“I’m sorry-”

"Pay no attention to her, Y/N," Vesemir softly adds, tossing a flask full of water towards the girl. Ciri catches it swiftly, gulping down half of it in an instant. Older witcher walks over to Y/N and gazes at the slumbering bard. Jaskier's mouth is slightly ajar, emitting gentle snores as he rests peacefully.

“Not quite a guardian, that one.”

“I told him to sleep.” Y/N explains and finally gets up on her feet. She felt safer now when they were all together again. Ciri joined Lambert, gently tapping him on the shoulders. Witcher instantly opened his eyes and looked at the group surrounding him.

It was time to move.

Few hours and lots of kilometres later, they finally saw signs of civilization. The sun had risen high in the sky, yet it offered little warmth. Vesemir and Ciri were leading the group, but even their firm steps started to slow down after a while. Jaskier was awfully quiet again, but Y/N knew better than to ask questions.

And behind her, there was Lambert again.

From time to time, Y/N swore she could feel his gaze but when she subtly turned around to check, he wasn’t looking. It was annoying and distracting, she realized, but there was nothing to say or do without starting another fight with stubborn man.

It was late afternoon when they finally reached the city of Luton. If such a place could even be called city, Y/N thought. At the core of the city lay a bustling and malodorous port, where the constant cries of seagulls filled the air, circling overhead as they mingled with the scent of the sea.

Vesemir suddenly stops and turns around to face the group.

“Alright. This is where we split up. Ciri-” he turns to the girl “Find us a supply shop. Herbs, oils, whatever you can think of.”

Ciri nods and leaves, not waiting for other instructions. Y/N is nervously looking around, not really sure if splitting up is good idea.

“Jaskier.” Vesemir turns to face the bard. Jaskier clears his throat and steps forward as he was waiting for his instructions. “Find us a quiet inn for tonight. Not too crowded nor too empty. Somewhere we won’t draw attention. Find me here in an hour.”

“Got it.” Jaskier nods quickly, looks around a few times and then leaves in the same direction where Ciri left just few seconds ago. Y/N knew it was her turn now.

Vesemir turns to her, with a soft look in his eyes. “Y/N. You’re going to snoop around. Look for the notice boards. Eavesdrop for the stories about our whereabouts. If someone is looking for us, we have less time than we thought.” he says, occasionally glancing around. Y/N suddenly straightens her back, as she feels chills going down her spine.

“Where should I meet you?” she asks quietly.

“We will find you after everything is prepared.” Vesemir says. Y/N quietly nods and decides to follow Ciri’s and Jaskier’s direction.

“Oh, and Y/N.” Vesemir adds before she has the chance to make another step forward. “Take Lambert with you.”

Both Y/N and Lambert groan.

“I can do this on my own, Vesemir.” Y/N says. Vesemir’s eyes suddenly darken.

“Can you? Could you defeat a drunkard who wants to fight you? Would you find a thief who steals your bag or money? “He asks her, his voice suddenly colder. Y/N suddenly feels ashamed and doesn’t know what to answer. She was a sorceress. If things got out of hand she could always rely on her magic. But she knew that would be the end of her. This wasn’t Novigrad – and magic wasn’t welcomed here.

“And you” suddenly he turns to Lambert. “Stay out of trouble. Keep an eye on Y/N. And don’t draw attention to yourselves.”

Lambert looks at Y/N and then back to Vesemir. “Got it.” he mutters and joins Y/N.

“What about-” Lambert was about to ask, but when he turned around again to face Vesemir, he was already out of sight. “Fast for an old man.” he mutters and faces Y/N. He looks at her for couple of seconds and sighs.

“What?” she asks, even more nervous now when he was completely focused on her.

“You’re not good at this, you know.” Lambert says and approaches her. Y/N freezes when his hands move towards her shoulders. He grabs the edges of her coat and pulls the hood over her head. Y/N frowns a little.

“Of course I’m not! I generally don’t waste my days hiding around foul-smelling cities or looking for kidnapped witchers.” she finally says, crossing arms on her chests.

“Well today is your lucky day, your highness.” he grins and pulls hood over his own head as well.

“Let’s go.”

[delicatemiss]

I think @0dde11eth may be my new favorite Tumblr blogger. I’m sorry for constantly interrupting senpai… anywho., I come to the fandom to scream my request for more female Jaskier and male Geralt. Idk… she feels like a self insert… oops

[moonlightpirate]

Masterlist

This is getting long so time for the keep reading cut!!!!

Return to The Madding Crowd

Chapter 1: The Storm

Chapter 2: A Fall Day

Chapter 3: To Love or Not to Love

Chapter 4: Proper Lady

Chapter 5: The Letters

Chapter 6: The Wedding Ball

Law of Destiny

Chapter 1: Stuck in Cintra

Chapter 2: The Journey Home

Chapter 3: Wide Awake

Chapter 4: Love and Dreams

Chapter 5: Damsel in Distress

Joey Batey and Jaskier

Secret Worlds series

The necklace

Together again

Dancing Under The Stars

Inkpot Gods

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Meeting the Lettenhoves

That Unwanted Animal

Part two Meeting the Lettenhoves

Adam Warlock

Goldilocks

Chapter 1: Thunderstruck

Valentines Day One Shots

Someone To Say

Madly

West Side Story

Somethings Coming

[zentrumderentropie]

Gonna try the Witcher-pen&paper on the weekend. These are my girlfriends and my characters!

[battlecries-dear]

in light of recent events (jaskier confirmed bi, likely will be given a male love interest) i venture to be the first to write fic where i flatten and ignore Male Love Interests character/ role in the actual show to instead use him as a dramatic roadblock keeping my action figures from kissing. as is time honored tradition.

[thewritersaddictions]

Christmas Stories 2023 Master List

Welcome to the Christmas Stories 2023 Master List

A/n- There will be some fluff for and during the Christmas time. This is 24 days of fluff, with a mixture of Christmas-themed songs and movies. Yes 'the nightmare before Christmas' is a Christmas movie.

Word Count- 19,868k

Series Master List

Day 1- Solider Boy + Baby, it's cold outside.

Day 2- Billy Hargrove + National Lampoons Christmas Vacation.

Day 3- Karl Heisenberg + Violent Night

Day 4- Jim Hopper + Sleigh Ride

Day 5- Eddie Munson + Scrooged

Day 6- Geralt + Germlins

Day 7- Damon Salvatore + Grinch

Day 8- John Price + Here Comes Santa Claus

Day 9- Simon “Ghost” Riley + It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Day 10- Koing + Home Alone

Day 11- Steve Harrington + Mele Kalikimaka

Day 12- Luis Serra + Elf

Day 13- Klaus Mikealson + Die Hard

Day 14- Steve Rogers + Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Day 15- Aaron Hotchner + Frosty the snowman

Day 16- Jaskier + Santa Baby

Day 17- Alcina Dimitrescu + A Christmas Story

Day 18- Daryl Dixon + Home Alone 2 Lost in New York

Day 19- James 'Bucky' Barnes + Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

Day 20- Joel Miller + Winter Wonderland

Day 21- Leon S. Kennedy + Holly Jolly Christmas

Day 22- Negan Smith + The Nightmare Before Christmas

Day 23- John “Soap” MacTavish + Feliz Navidad

Day 24- Rick Grimes + I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

Completed on: (12/24/23)

Posted on: (09/20/23) - (12/01/23)

Christmas Stories Tags- @dackwccgjd @alex000sstuff @elenaguarnieri @emilyrosetravis @magnificentalpacabird @crazybooklover33 @yourfavthiopoan @peachbunnieluv @jokenotfunny @pastanoodles11 @hyunjinbiased-blog @tuquoquebrute @kjah97 @is-being-ignored-a-hobby @kiwi-lanes @welcomethefears @elenenvy @multifandom456 @sweatshirtXO @g8sstuff @rottendorkmomo @emmasstuff2415

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Last Poll of The Day - 10/14/23

[thebansacredbanned]

10 Characters, 10 Fandoms, 10 Tags

I was tagged by @yletylyf!!! Hi!!!

Tang Lian - The Blood of Youth

Meng Zhi - Nirvana in Fire

Ah Cheng - The Disguiser

Wang Yan | Mowen - A League of Nobleman

Jieli - Love between Fairy and Devil

Shan Gudao - Mysterious Lotus Casebook

Grantaire - Les Miserables

Cassandra - Greek Mythology

Wen Xu - The Untamed

Jaskier - The Witcher

Tagging: @nemainofthewater @wishthefish @vaynglories @sinni-ok-sessi @circumference-pie + anyone else who wants to join in

[fantasyqueen502]

Masterlist

Imagines and Miscellaneous Drabbles

 (Feel free to re-blog and comment)

G: General audiences (All ages admitted)

PG: Parental guidance suggested – Some material may not be suitable for children. 

PG-13: Parents strongly cautioned – Some material may be inappropriate for children under 13. (mild depictions of blood or violence, minor mentions of sex, and language) 

R: Restricted – Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian. (Graphic/explicit depictions of blood, sex, violence, and strong language.)

Elsa’s Masquerade- Elsa x Female reader (Rated: G)

Ineffable gift- (Rated: PG-13)

Dragon and his keeper- Aemond Targaryen x male reader (Rated: PG-13)

Lady Strong- Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader (Rated: PG-13)

Mrs. Miller (Rated: PG)

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 2 (Rated: PG)

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 3 (Rated: PG, R in the last third)

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 4 (Rated: PG)

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 5 (Rated: PG)

Apple Pie- Joel Miller x Reader/Y/N (Gender neutral) (Rated: PG)

Dog Lady-(Rated: PG-13)

Wrong (Rated: PG-13)

Spider Samurai (Rated: PG-13)

Who are you? (Rated: PG)

Chili Mango Run- (Rated: PG)

Not a Robot- (Rated: PG-13)

Lunch- (Rated: G)

Officer O'Hara- (Rated: PG)

At Peace- Jedi! Female reader/OC x Poe Dameron (Rated: PG-13)

Dinner first- Poe Dameron x (gender neutral) reader (Rated: PG-13)

Kiss of Life: (PG-13)

Sam the Samaritan- Poe Dameron x male alien (Rated: PG)

Happenstance- Daryl Dixon x unnamed male OC (Rated: PG-13)

Lazy Day- Jack Russell x Oc (Rated: PG)

"If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!"- Jaskier x female reader (Rated: PG-13)

I am a husband now, a father, and damn good one- Jaskier X male reader (Rated: PG-13)

Three- Kane x (female unnamed) OC (Rated: PG-13)

Violet- Kane x female OC (Rated: PG-13)

Fourteen- Duke Leto x (female) reader (Rated: PG-13)

In Sickness and in Health- (Rated: PG-13)

Madam Persephone- (Rated: R)

Jessamy- (Rated: PG-13)

[eggcompany]

Oh Dear, Wife Part One

Prince Geralt came to terms with the fact he was to be married. Betrothed to a princess from an eastern kingdom. Some woman who he'd have to coddle and take care of, someone who'd nag at him and be a pain. He didn't like the fact that he was to wed some frumpy woman but he came to terms with it. Princess Jaskier is told she'd to be given away to a monster of the north. A killer who's worse than any earthly creature. A beast made by the devil himself.

However when she arrived a short worded prince met her with a gentlemanly demeanor welcomed her. Geralt didn't quite know what to do with a woman like Jaskier. She pushed back, said what she meant, and was strong as most knights.

Neither of them knew they would be given a chance to actually love. It was a strange dance, but a dance no less.

Geralt had come to terms that his wife was the woman he’d be stuck to for the rest of his life. Betrothed. Eskel got to find his wife, saving the woman from a burning building that terribly killed her husband. Lambert wasn’t married to any of the mothers of his bastards. 

Vesemir had sat him down telling him that this was how they would finally have peace from the Lettenhovians. That he’d be marrying one of the princesses. The only unwed princess that was of age. And she was of age at 26, only Geralt's junior by a year. 

Geralt had only grumbled a bit. Weddings were not a part of his culture, they didn’t lavish in resources like the eastern kingdom did, all he had to do was wait for her arrival. He paced his bedroom up in one of the towers, walking around his bed, stuffed and soft, to the adjoining room that would be her chamber. He would just stand there and shake his head. 

He was the Killer Prince, the royal figure who rode into battle, who had the scars to prove himself, who crossed the continent ten times over before he was twenty, who was in charge of keeping the kingdom safe. He didn’t need a woman bickering and nagging at him, trying to get him to become someone else. Especially not one of those miserably weak and tearful Lettenhovians who could barely hold a sword. He’d have to find her a lover so he could have peace. 

He grumbled but…He came to terms with having a woman to have to take care of and bed with a few times a year and bear a child with. He didn’t look forward to it, but he’d come to terms. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

He was waiting by the castle gates for his bride. It was the end of summer, the sun was shining. The guards who’d been stationed at the edge of the kingdom had rode ahead to warn Geralt and to make sure the princess was brought to the castle safely. They warned him that there may be a trick or trap ahead but didn’t say much else. 

Geralt just waited, wearing his finest coat, his hair brushed and tied up in the back. He’d bathed and had a piece of mint he’d been sucking on.

Jaskier was her name. Dandelion. As all the Lettenhoven Royal sisters were named after flowers. Dandelion was a weed but flower no less, Geralt supposed. He’d been thinking about it, how Dandelions were still flowers but not like Irises or Roses or Tulips or- He heard the carriage passing through the castle gate, blessing his heightened hearing so he could stand at the end of the stairs, perfect posture. 

The buggy that was brought before him wasn’t what he expected. It wasn’t decorated to the Lettenhovian extent nor was it painted or anything. He’d been to Lettenhove, he'd seen the brightly painted carriages and carefully carved wood at every corner, the flowers and paints, the art that covered every inch of the kingdom. This was not that. 

It was a small buggy with glassless windows and thick red curtains. It had to be freezing inside, Geralt thought as he stepped towards it. He thought it could fall apart at any moment as he grabbed for the door. 

He opened the door himself, not waiting for the near drunk driver who hadn’t made the move to get down. Geralt stared into the darkness, noticing all the belongings that should have been in the following carriage were stacked inside along with the princess. 

“Thank you dear Fr- Oh! Hello! You must be Geralt.” The woman said as she blinked, adjusting to the sunlight. Geralt held his hand out to her, reaching into the darkness for her callused hand. She grabbed it, trusting and sure the prince would keep her steady as he hopped down to the cobblestone. 

Geralt looked her over as soon as her boots hit the ground. 

She wasn’t quite what he expected. She was tall, almost his height, had short brown hair cropped around her ears, and strong muscles from what he could tell through her snug long sleeves. Her face wasn’t painted brightly like some of the women Geralt had encountered in Lettenhoven. She had a slight blue tint painted thinly above her eyelashes and her lips were painted a soft pink. She wasn’t even dressed like the other women he’d seen in the eastern kingdom. She had on boots, well made and hardened leather, heavy woolen pants under her layered skirts, and no fancy hat that would get caught in the ever bearing wind. 

She was pretty. Different from what Geralt was anticipating. 

“You're not quite what I expected” Jaskier said plainly as she blinked and fixed her dress hem. Geralt was… not monstrous at all. She’d been told he was a Witcher, a creature, a beast, a monster . Something that would maul her and leave like a bear merely playing with its food. But she was almost shocked at the beautiful man standing before her. The man who’d offered her a hand without giving her a chance to struggle. 

“It’s that bad?” Geralt asked, smirking as he dusted off her sleeves and back, seeing the trip had done a number on her wardrobe. She smiled and looked down, shying away from his golden gaze, hair falling into her face. 

“To be truthful, I was told you were a creature made by the devil himself. I thought maybe I could have sex with you once and avoid you the rest of my life.” Jaskier confessed, cheeks growing pink. Finally she looked up to catch the prince shaking his head with a slight flash of teeth, a grin, she thought. 

“Not the worst tale told of us Witchers.” Geralt said as he locked arms with the princess, guiding her toward the castle doors and out of the cold. 

Jaskier couldn’t help her own smile. What a sarcastic ass. Charming. Unbelievably charming. And handsome. And steady, solid as he helped her off the slick stone steps. 

“How am I doing?” Geralt asked and opened the castle door welcoming her in. She stomped her feet, shaking the muck and snow off her boots. He watched her stomp as he brushed his own boots off in the line of brushes by the entry. 

“Quite handsome. Really nice hair. Me?” Jaskier asked as he said and gave a twirl, the heft of layered skirts fanning out. She’d hope she was presentable but given the ease that she felt around him, she felt little anxiety. Geralt nodded and tried not to give away that he’d just seen up her skirts, seeing her floral embroidered bloomers. 

“Womanly. Different from what I expected from a Lettenhovian princess.” Geralt said honestly and walked toward the staircase that would bring them to the king. He’d need to present Jaskier soon as possible to Vesemir, just proving the King of Lettenhovian had really sent one of his daughters and that she was presentable and alive. 

“I guess we’ll both have to relearn what we thought.” Jaskier answered and hoisted her skirts up beginning the trek up the stairs. She let herself breathe, really breathe, for the first time since passing through the castle gates. There’s much more time to get to know if the prince was really honest. But so far, she hadn’t found anything to fear. Hopefully he just finds her… enough. And doesn’t force her into anything too horrid. That would be great. 

“Hmm” Geralt said as he looked over her body. Even her pants covered ankles that showed as she picked up her skirts. He just knew she’d be a handful. The scuffs and bark marks on her boots were enough to tell him that. Nagging wives usually didn’t climb trees or wear slacks under their skirts. They usually didn’t arrive to a foreign land without handmaids or other accompaniment. They usually would shy away from Geralt’s eyes, stay disgusted at his offered hand. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

Vesemir, King of Morhen, Wolf of the North, Father to Devils. Jaskier bowed before the throne, ducking her head deeply before Geralt touched her arm, raising her back up. 

“We don’t do that here, Jaskier. Just close your eyes.” Geralt whispered to her when he noticed she’d bowed like the eastern kingdoms did, bending almost in half. Jaskier stood up, face burning red from embarrassment. She was already messing up, and in front of the king no less. The king waved his hand, dismissing it. 

“She’ll learn. It's a high honor where she’s from, isn’t that right, Dandelion?” Vesemir asked as he stepped to the floor, walking towards them. Jaskier swallowed and nodded. 

“You must remember the easterners are a different kind of people, Geralt. You must teach her our customs. Our culture.” The king said facing his son who nodded and rolled his eyes at his father.

“I know.” Geralt said and Vesemir gave him a finger wag, which made the prince grin slightly. Jaskier felt it was wrong to see something between king and prince but when the king turned and took her hands in his own, she didn’t see the king. She saw her husband’s father. Father and son. 

“You’ll be the knot between our kingdoms, our princess. The peace treaty generations have tried to create. I hope you find yourself content and happy here. We’ve done everything we can to try and ready for you. Please let the servants know if you need anything.” Vesemir said seriously, in a voice that made Jaskier feel… safe. Like he was speaking to her , not the princess. She smiled and grabbed his hands, feeling the rough war torn strength that was there. 

“I’m sure I will, your majesty. I’m made of tougher stuff than my sisters. I am… I am happy to be here.” She said and meant it. She was tougher than her sisters, had to be. She was happy to be there. Anything to get away from the eyes of Lettenhove, the eyes of the doctors and her mother. To live with wolves was better than to love with judgment. 

Vesemir squeezed her hands and smiled. He gave Geralt a pat on the shoulder as they left, giving him a look that Jaskier barely caught. 

“I’ll show you our rooms. My younger brother, Lambert, used to board next to me in the West Tower. We’ve made that room yours. Feel free to paint or decorate as you like.” Geralt said and guided them toward another staircase, one that gently spiraled up. Jaskier followed, her head rolling through all the things that could mean. Was Geralt sexless? Was he more aggressive because of that? Was she given a private room because she’s a woman? Was it because he didn’t want to sleep with her? Was it because he knew? Did he know? Why was she given her own room?

Though she didn’t have to worry long because they were stopped in front of two doors. One that was adorned with a carved G and one with a small carved flower carved on it. She could see the slight blush creeping onto the prince's cheek at it. 

“Eskel thinks himself an artist. I told him of your arrival when you passed the castle gates.” Geralt explained and rubbed at the carved flower. Eskel had been more than happy to have marked the door for the princess, covering the L that had been there. He’d been the one to carve their initials on the doors in the first place, after all. 

“It’s beautiful, I’ll have to give him my thanks.” Jaskier said as her heart fluttered. It was so kind. She didn’t expect that from the elder prince. 

Geralt pulled out the key from a slot in the doorframe, handing it to her. She took it, the hefty gold solid and plain. 

“You can lock it when you like. Most of the doors here lock, feel free to store the key where you like but there’s slots carved in the door.” Geralt explained and opened the door, pushing it so they could go inside. Jaskier gasped. 

The walls were painted white with sunlight yellow details, the floor was stone but was covered by a beautifully weaved blue rug, crochet or knitted by the look of it, and behind the bed, which sat gently on a simple bedframe, was a mural of a flower field. It looked just like the ones back home in Lettenhove, the all colored flowers stretching forever under the blue sky that was spattered with light cottony clouds. There was a desk made of light wood under the curved window, a chair to match, a large wardrobe that stretched one wall of the room, centered with a large mirror, and a small round table with two chairs and a white tablecloth. 

“This is beautiful… Oh Geralt, this is wonderful.” She said and opened the doors of the wardrobe, thinking of how she was going to organize her instruments, she even peaked in her own private bathroom that was painted the same as her bedroom. Geralt stood just inside the room, not wanting to make a habit of intruding. 

“This door, it’s one of the few in the castle that locks from both sides.” He said and pointed to the rather shallow door beside the desk. She’s barely noticed it. She nodded and walked to it, looking at Geralt expectantly. 

“It goes to my room.” Geralt said and opened it, walking into his own bedroom. 

Jaskier followed, looking at the change of decor. The room was painted deep blue, the richest color she had ever seen. The bed was shove in a corner, the dark wood four poster frame was carved intricatly with the heads of animals and different creatures. The desk was covered in books and papers, pens and inkwells, obvious of hard work being done. The wardrobe was only half a wall here, the other half being a map, drawn on canvas, of the entire continent. Jaskier couldn’t help herself as she walked to the table, looking down at the papers that created the map from her own castle to the Morhener’s own. There were candles on shelves around the table, burnt down to the glass, nights spent working, she thought. 

She finally sat down at the table and Geralt cleared his throat, having produced two glasses and a bottle of bubbly alcohol from somewhere. 

“We drink with marriage. I’m sure tomorrow you’ll be offered much more. We should start now.” The prince explained, pouring them each a glass when he sat down. Jaskier smiled and nodded, hoping Geralt wasn’t a mean drunk. 

Geralt felt his own cheeks heat up at the thought of tomorrow. He hoped Jaskier wasn’t a crying drunk. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

“No I did! I chopped all the firewood because he couldn’t! I don’t know how I arrived in one piece or how I got here! And it was so cold Geralt, I thought I may freeze to death.” Jaskier said imploringly as she drank from the bottle of some sweeter alcohol. She felt warm and loose, the candles were lit and cast the most stunning shapes across Geralt’s face. She almost wanted to reach out and touch but contained herself. 

Geralt nodded and leaned his head against the wall, showing off his strong neck. 

“You were scared?” Geralt asked, looking at her. She was red cheeked and her eyes were big and dark, drunk. He couldn’t picture her chopping wood on the side of a Morhen road. Hell, he couldn’t picture a princess being on a Morhen road without being in freezing terror. But she shook her head confidently, looking like she’d just tasted something sour. 

“I was angry. I was angry that not only would my family ship me off to someone who they thought was a beast, but to send me in a crate on wheels! They send the dead off with more dignity!” Jaskier said, hand waving around in the air. She was angry, no, furious, to have been treated in such a way. None of her sisters would have ever been transported like this. 

“I’ll never do that to you.” Geralt reassured, seeing the anger building in her eyes. He would never put a princess in peril like that. Never send her away in anything that wasn’t fit. He watched her eyes, sparkling blue, as they met his own. 

“I hope so, dear.”She said and reached out across the table, short nails covered in sparkling polish catching the light as she covered his hand. She squeezed his hand, genuine smile cresting on her lips. He couldn’t help flipping his hand over so their palms were together, noting only slightly that her hands were freezing. 

“Why are you, out of all your sisters, named after a weed and not a flower?” Geralt asked before he took another big drink from the bottle. He watched something… sad, flash across the princess’s face. She looked down at the floor, sock covered foot tracing patterns on the floor. 

“Well I guess… I guess when I was born they thought me unsuitable. I was born late, not in the manor but rather at an inn, and I guess… I guess they thought it suited me. My sisters are all… I was different. Have always been different, I suppose.” Jaskier explained, eyes unable to reach the prince’s. She felt her chest hurt, even the alcohol was unable to keep that self disgust at bay. Geralt cleared his throat and shook the now empty bottle. It was late, they should head to bed soon. 

“I think it’s good. Dandelions are one of the few flowers that bloom here. They’re the first ones we see. We don’t have peonies or irises. We cook with them, most of the villages have yellow gardens that are just dandelions. The children call them lion flowers, give them to soldiers for strength. Not so bad.” Geralt said and stood up, straightening himself before offering the princess a hand to escort her to her room.  

“Perhaps.” She said and gave him a long look before closing the door that separated them. They would have to talk everything through tomorrow, a good rest was necessary. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

The next day Jaskier opened the dividing door welding a pair of scissors and a decorative comb. Dressed in a white nightgown and a pair of socks, and her cheeks pinked with blush but void of makeup. Geralt looked up from his desk, dressed for the day and reading through documents about Lettenhovian foods. He was a bit amused at her pink cheeks and lack of clothing. 

“You are my husband, you must tend to my needs and know my culture. You have to cut my hair. It’s your duty.” Jaskier announced as she came into his room, sitting down promptly in front of his mirror. His own combs and scissors laying there with his straight razor and shaving cream. She held her own silver scissors and matching comb in front of her. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow at her through the mirror as he walked up behind her. No one ever just came into his room, unless it was the servants to clean or Eskel to deliver documents, no one ever just… allowed themselves in. 

“Is it your culture to barge into a prince's room?” He asked and took the comb and scissors, running his thumb across the blade, noting they were extremely sharp and polished to perfection. Jaskier swallowed and watched him, a hint of nervousness in her eyes as her hands knotted up the font of her gown. 

“It is my culture to share space with my husband. What yours is mine, and what mine is yours. If I… overstep, tell me.” Jaskier explained and watched Geralt put the scissors in his pocket in favor of combing through her hair. She had already brushed it, trying to make it soft and straight, easy to cut. 

Geralt took a long moment taking her in. She smelled like flowers and cut vegetation, her hair was powder soft and dry, her collarbones were visible in her dress, showing off more of her soft milky skin. He thought she looked lovely, warm and gentle. 

“Do you just want me to trim it?” He asked quietly and watched her look down, trying to hide her smile. She looked back up at him through the mirror. 

“Yes, I will ask you to cut it when the summer comes around. But for now just a trim. Whatever you see fit.” Jaskier explained and watched Geralt nod, pulling the scissors back out to start cutting away small amounts. 

“Am I to let you cut my hair?” Geralt asked as he brushed through her hair, getting all the cuttings to fall to the floor. Jaskier thought about it, all she was ever taught about grooming a husband was to shave their face because Lettenhovian men cut each other's hair. And certainly didn’t keep long hair like the prince’s. 

“How is it in your culture?” She asked and was turned around in the chair, staring face to face with Geralt who carefully cut the hair around her face. His golden eyes inches from her own. She swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice how red her face was getting. 

“Hair is hair. It gets ripped out, chopped off, and covered in viscera. Keep it clean or cut it off.” Geralt finished and stood back up and turned her back toward the mirror. Jaskier smiled at herself. It wasn’t noticeable, he’d taken so little. She nodded and stood up, dusting herself off. 

“Then yes. I am to cut your hair in turn. When in need, I will also shave your face if I feel the need. You keep it short I see so that probably won’t be an issue.” Jaskier said and looked over his stubbly jaw. She had always, secretly, liked men who were a little less clean shaven. 

Geralt nodded and felt his own throat tighten at the thought of someone else’s hand on his razor. It will pass , he told himself. 

“I will… go get dressed for the day. The handmaids put my clothes away this morning while I bathed. Will you bring me to breakfast?” Jaskier explained and stood in the door, waiting for an answer. She had slept in, the handmaids explaining how breakfast was served at daylight. She didn’t want to get lost in the castle quite yet, not knowing what kind of people were kept within its walls. 

“Dress and we can ask the kitchen for something. We’re to travel to the village today. They have a welcoming celebration planned.” Geralt explained and looked at his daily list, they were supposed to be present in the village for lunch for the celebration. He was almost excited to see how the princess did on horseback down the mountain. It was a long ride from the castle to the village, through rough trails and thick forest. 

“What should I wear for it? A ball-” Jaskier asked, anxiety heavy in her voice. Geralt cut her off with a sharp look. Almost like he was testing her. 

“Pants would be most suitable for the ride down.” He answered, waiting for her answer. But was only met with a smile and the soft close of the dividing door. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

Not only did she don a pair of thick trousers, colored like cherries, but the matching doublet over a high necked pink blouse. She painted her lips in a matching crimson and lined her eyes with a darker, maroon. She felt quite pretty with two golden clips in her hair, holding it from her face. 

She happily went through the castle, walking independently as her boot heels tapped against the floors. This was a game, she was sure, Geralt wanted to know if she was tough enough. And she was ready to play, so as she passed the armory that was beside the front doors she slipped inside, smiling at the knight who was shining swords. She grabbed a dagger from a shelf, feeling the point before slipping it into her pocket. She felt far more than ready to play. 

Geralt was in front of the castle talking with two guards, telling them that the horse’s blankets needed to be washed before the cold was too harsh at night. He heard the door creak open, waiting to see the princess, curious about her choice of clothes but was brought short. 

She was stunning . The knights beside him stopped what they were doing, enraptured by the princess just as Geralt was. Jaskier stood at the top of the stairs, blue eyes, seemingly ever bluer if possible, staring right into the prince’s own.

It was only when one of the knights dropped a saddle bag that Geralt came back to himself. He stepped up to her, looking her over. The doublet clung to the gentle curve of her waist, the trousers snug on her hips and soft rear, her hair was off her face, showing off her fanning eyelashes and smooth skin, and even down to her boots, worn but sturdy and reliable, seemed evermore charming. 

“Am I ready?” Jaskier teased as she looked up at Geralt, smile wide on her face. The prince rolled his eyes and huffed. He was impressed. She was dressed for a tough trip, yet done up like a doll. It was… he liked it. 

“This is Pegasus, he’s yours. He knows this land as much as I do. Do you-” Geralt explained about to kneel down to give the princess a boost, knowing the horse was quite tall, but she had already hoisted herself up into the saddle. She looked down at him, smug expression on her face. Geralt shook his head and mounted Roach, the mare huffed at his weight. As she always did. 

Jaskier laughed and petted at the white furred horse’s neck. She looked at Geralt, feeling a certain tick in her chest at the sight of him atop the horse. 

“I’ll be counting on him then because I cannot tell directions.” She said with a smile, truth heavy in her voice. Geralt looked at her for a moment, waiting for her to explain but she blinding started toward the castle gate. He was quick to get ahead of her, to guide her down the mountain. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

The village adored their Princess. Their królewna. Jaskier had spotted a lute player in the courtyard, a young boy who only knew two songs and traded him some candies to borrow his instrument. Soon the entire village was drawn to the square, dancing and singing along with Jaskier as she sang. She was more than happy as she strummed the slightly out of tune lute, jumping onto tables and onto the fountain, smile brighter than the sun.

The people adored her, children seeing her as something magical and bright chasing her around for candies that she had stuffed in her pockets, grandmothers seeing her as a shining light of a woman, soldiers returned home seeing her the shining star in the ever dark night. 

They stayed longer than they should have. Geralt was feared still, few men coming to speak with him. But when Jaskier dragged him to the square and sat him next to a group of elderly women, he didn’t feel quite so… outcasted. 

Jaskier dazzled and danced, moving and singing like a songbird in the sky. It was where she was meant to be. And it made Geralt feel squeezed in the chest. His wife, the songbird of Morhen. 

He needed a drink.