#also yes that does mean jaskier is brown and only white-passing do not fight me on this

[crispyjenkins]

geraskefer "crispy has lost control of their life again" celebration sneak peek

this fic is really really heavy, in ways none of my other works are, so please read the following warnings closely even though i don't actually talk about any of those heavy things in this excerpt this is, however, a story that's very near and dear to me and i really love the world building i've done with it so far, and am actually almost done writing it but it's over 40,000 words and just wanna talk about it 😭

inspired by of music and motion and love (and it’s companion piece) by writethroughthenight on ao3.

warnings/tags: implied/referenced/off-screen sexual assault, canon-typical violence (non-sexual tho), stregobor-typical human experimentation, implied and canon-typical fantastical racism, implied/referenced torture (like it’s not really torture but it’s not NOT torture y'feel?), jaskier whump, no post-mountain geralt vilification, poly-heavy like this is very much a poly fic, minor mind/body control but no outright possession, good valdo marx, jaskier is the sandpiper, angsty but very much with a HAPPY ENDING

 She sighs and lets him kiss his cheek before ushering their strange little party out the door and down a servants’ passageway to the stables. To his relief, it’s just their means of escape, and they don’t actually have to deal with smuggling a horse or two; despite knowing she’ll be back the next time Geralt buys a chestnut mare, Jaskier still mourns whatever current Roach Geralt had to have left behind somewhere between Cintra and Temeria. 

  Also in their favour is the fact that everyone here is quite used to sneaking and hiding for their lives, so it’s quick work to move through Wyzima’s dark streets towards Dandelion. Any time Jaskier has to do something Geralt or Yennefer don’t expect (paying off a watchman here, steering them around patrols there, and even whistling a short code to one of the side business’ other Birds to allow them through a locked gate to cut through someone’s garden), Jaskier feels their curious and considering stares at his back, Yennefer’s with grudging admiration, and Geralt’s with slightly-accusatory guilt. 

  Whatever, Jaskier doesn’t owe Geralt anything, least of all an explanation for his unexplainable skills.

  Luckily, he only has to kill one person during the trek, one of Foltest’s soldiers that recognises Geralt as they pass, and Jaskier doesn’t have time to hesitate, flicking a terribly-thin throwing dagger from his left sleeve with enough force to stick it through the soldier’s throat to the hilt. After he retrieves his dagger, Geralt is back to not looking at him at all.

  They reach Dandelion in just over an hour thanks to shortcuts and an old smuggling tunnel, arriving at a small two-storey cottage in a relatively nice area of the city, with no distinguishing features except a single paper Dandelion in a vase in the curtained front window. Jaskier leads them around to the back (the front doors of all the safehouses are sealed and barred, with magic and wooden slats both), and uses a small burst of his own magic to unlock the door to the cellar.

  He makes sure everyone enters ahead of him, closing and relocking everything with the same touch of chaos that has Yennefer’s nose twitching, then ushers Destiny’s Trio up into the cottage properly.

  It’s sparsely decorated, it’s not exactly meant to house anyone for more than a night at most, but the warm wood furniture and whitewashed walls are actually quite cozy, if Jaskier says so himself. Amused, he watches understanding dawn on everyone’s faces when they see the collection of paper dandelions tied together on the kitchen table.

  Yennefer turns to Jaskier. “Dandelion is the safehouse?”

  “Of course, my dear witch!” Flouncing into the kitchen, he quickly —though not quite painlessly— unslings his satchel to drop it onto the table next to the dandelions. “So are Buttercup, and Chamomile, though in your defense Poppy is very much a person.”

  “Jaskier.”

  He winces, taking a deep breath before finally meeting Geralt’s golden eyes for the first time since he’d burst into Triss’ infirmary. Do Cirilla and Yennefer realise just how much emotion their stoic witcher is showing right then? Pain in the clench of his jaw, confusion and the fear of that confusion held in the tension of his shoulders, worry in the lines of his pursed lips?

  Fuck, this is why Jaskier never wanted to see Geralt again, because he remembers when Geralt used to look at him with that much emotion all the time, back before Yennefer fucked her way into both their lives, back before Geralt had lost them both.

  “Geralt,” he murmurs tiredly, sagging to lean on the back of the chair.  “Why do you have multiple safehouses?” The ‘Why do you need multiple safehouses?’ goes unsaid.

-

[yersina]

okay, hear me out: blacksmith!jaskier.

like, maybe he’s the owner of his own shop (smithy? forge?), maybe he’s apprenticed to someone else—either way, he works in a little town, proooobably somewhere close to kaer morhen?

(sina, you may be saying that this point, jaskier loves to travel! he likes to see new things and meet new people and cause trouble! how could he stand to stay in one place his whole life? not a problem! shopkeepers aren’t confined to their shops, are they? especially if he’s an apprentice. i propose that he takes semi-annual journeys to travel to more far away towns and sell his wares there and maybe chase a few skirts while he’s at it)

so anyway, blacksmith!jaskier. he’s actually more of a jeweler sort of person—he likes beauty, likes art, and while he can see and appreciate the skill it takes to create a sword or a kitchen knife, he doesn’t really find his calling in creating chamberpots. but alas, see: small town, so this is the best place for something approaching an apprenticeship that he can find.

one day, he’s minding his own business in the back of the shop (smithy??), re-sharpening a knife for a nice old lady who dropped it off a day or so ago, when the master blacksmith storms in and gestures for him to get out. jaskier has long since learned that the master blacksmith is a man of few words, so he troops out to the front with no small amount of exasperation and confusion.

and lo and behold, there stands a witcher in his entrance.

“fix it,” he grunts (bc jaskier is, of course, cursed to work only around people who can’t be bothered to string together more than five syllables at once) and drops the literally shattered remains of a sword on the counter.

jaskier stares. dented swords, he’s seen. they’re close enough to a big city that they’ve occasionally gotten the odd knight looking for a cheaper alternative to city-internal smithies. but shattered? and in so many pieces? “i’d really just advise you buy a new sword at this point, good sir,” jaskier says slowly. “i could use this as scrap metal and make you a new one, but it won’t be the same sword.”

the witcher grunts. jaskier waits expectantly for any more input, but only several seconds of silence follow. “great,” jaskier chirps, injecting as much false cheer into his voice as he can. “i’ll just... take that as a yes.”

so he gets the witcher a new sword (a softer alloy this time, and one that hopefully won’t shatter at low temperatures like this one did), deducts the price of the scrap metal from the asking price of the sword, and sees the witcher on his merry (sullen, silent) way.

except the witcher keeps coming back.

jaskier has no idea why—it’s not like they offer services that any other smithy doesnt. all he does is sell the witcher (geralt of rivia, he eventually learns from town gossip) swords, the witcher grunts through jaskier’s admittedly meaningless chatter, and then he leaves. occasionally, he shows up twice in one month (once before a hunt to get his sword repaired, and then once after for the same), and then he leaves.

it’s utterly baffling.

but then theodore moore, the cheapskate bandit who passes through twice a year in order to spend all of his illegitimate money, drowns in the river while he’s stumbling through the forest drunk.

and then people start disappearing.

it takes until the little girl from down the road disappears while she’s picking flowers in the forest for the townspeople to seriously consider the idea of hunkering down and waiting for someone to take care of the problem. jaskier even rides to the nearby city and posts a request for help. maybe geralt will see it.

they spend half a year avoiding the river like the plague, but then people start disappearing from the town square—next to the fountain. then there’s talk of killing the beast themselves, but none of them know what it’s weak to.

when geralt shows up in the smithy one afternoon, white hair brown with dirt and skin smeared with mud, jaskier nearly cries. “thank god you’re here,” he says, and he’d laugh at geralt’s look of confusion if it weren’t for the circumstances. “we have a job for you.”

if he’d thought geralt was a wall to talk to before, it’s nothing when compared to how quickly geralt stiffens and closes off. jaskier didn’t even know that geralt had been slowly relaxing around him until right then, and a pang of regret echoes through him. “what is it,” he says flatly.

“a man drowned in the river last year,” jaskier explains. “and now six people are dead.” when geralt turns around without another word, jaskier has to scramble around the counter and tug him back. “wait, you can’t just leave—people are dying.”

geralt stares at him, unimpressed. “do you want me to kill it from in here?”

oh. jaskier laughs weakly. “of course, how could i have doubted you, master witcher.”

geralt turns to leave again and actually looks a bit annoyed when jaskier holds him fast. “what is it now?”

“i’m coming with you,” jaskier says firmly.

at least geralt doesn’t laugh in his face. “no.”

“look,” jaskier begins, and swears that he sees geralt roll his eyes. “i’m not—trained in combat, per se, but i can strike a few blows. i work with swords for a living! i can be backup?”

“this isn’t a game.” the furrow between geralt’s eyebrows grows the slightest bit deeper, like the world’s tiniest frown. “you could die.”

“i’ll keep out of the way,” jaskier throws in cajolingly. he’s not sure why he’s fighting so hard to join in on an expedition that will very likely lead to his death, but now that he’s started, he may as well go all in.

geralt just grunts and pulls his arm out of jaskier’s grasp, but he doesn’t do anything to stop jaskier when he grabs a sword and a scabbard and follows on his heels.

(this is where geralt wows jaskier with his fancy silver sword, and jaskier hardly needs to do anything other than gape on the sidelines as geralt dispatches theodore moore—a drowner now, he reminds himself—with brutal efficiency)

jaskier ends up arguing for higher pay for geralt bc of course he does, and manages to get geralt to sit down for a pint of ale in the tavern. jaskier travels but he doesn’t travel, and although geralt isn’t the best conversationalist, he does have some tales.

this ends with jaskier puzzling his way around making a silver sword and maybe getting a mage to imbue it with some magical runes or whatever it is that they do in their ivory towers, and he presents it to geralt the next time he comes by. geralt, being geralt, doesn’t do much else than take it with him while he’s leaving, but jaskier sees it strapped to his back the next time he stops by in the town, and geralt actually asks him to repair it at some point (!!) which is not smth that he’s ever done before.

geralt also starts bringing jaskier things which jaskier is utterly delighted by because it means that geralt has been paying attention while jaskier rambles at him the few times that they manage to sit down in the tavern together. this continues on for years and years and jaskier steadily grows fonder and fonder until he has a Realization one day when he’s looking at a sunflower and thinking abt how it matches the color of geralt’s eyes that goddamn he’s in love with a witcher.

(my Actual Prose runs out here but i’m envisioning jaskier putting those jeweler skills to use in fashioning geralt useful but also pretty pieces of jewelry as courting gifts until one day jaskier is just like “god you’re so fucking dumb” and just kisses him happily ever after the end)

[flowercrown-bard]

This is the secret santa gift for @yarpfish. thanks @thewitchersecretsanta for organizing this.

content warning: Christmas. I get that for those who don’t celebrate Christmas, it can be annoying to have the holiday shoved in their faces.

summary: Geralt really doesn’t want to play Santa for the primary school, unlike Jaskier, who may or may not be a bit angry that this handsom stranger got the part. And if they have to meet again to discuss Geralt’s audacity, well neither of them is going to complain.

Read on AO3

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Geralt stared at the text he had just gotten from his ex. Somewhere behind him, Lambert snorted und suddenly things made much more sense. Not complete sense, but at least he now knew whom to blame.

Geralt glared at Lambert. “Care to explain why Yen just send me a text saying Get the costume ready?” The days when he had worn costumes for Yennefer were long past.

“That, dear brother, means that you are going to be Santa. At the primary school.” Lambert barely managed to get the words out before his own laughter cut him short. “Oh you are going to look great! You already have the white hair. Now all you need it – “

“I need fuck all,” Geralt growled. “I am not going to play Santa.”

--

Yennefer looked up at Geralt from where she was sitting at her desk with not a hint of surprise, but abundance of smug amusement.

Geralt had all but stormed into her office past the young man who had just left it, looking crestfallen. Geralt didn’t care. He didn’t have time to think about some young father who had seen the principal of the primary school to complain about his child’s bad grades or whatever it was the man had been doing. Geralt had far more important things to care about. Like telling Yennefer that he was absolutely not going to dress up as Santa Clause and give gifts and sweets to the students.

“And why not?” Yennefer asked, one eyebrow lifted and her lips in a smirk.

Geralt huffed. “Are you serious, Yen? The real question is, why the hell would anyone think it would be a good idea to have me dress up and make an idiot of myself.”

“Lambert made some really good arguments.”

“Like?”

“Like it would be hilarious.” She ignored Geralt’s growl, suddenly turning serious. “And it would make Ciri happy.”

Geralt deflated. Fuck. Of course, Yen had to pull out the big guns and talk about Ciri. Christmas had always been her favourite time of the year and ever since she had found out that there would be a Santa coming to the school before the holidays, she had been adorably exited.

Geralt sighed.

“I really don’t want to do this.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But fine. I’ll think about it.”

“You better do. If you decide to chicken out, I will have to accept the only other guy who volunteered-“

“I didn’t volunteer. Lambert dragged me into this mess.”

“- and he is an overexcited idiot. I’d rather dress up myself than have him in my office again.”

Geralt sighed and left the principal’s office. He had barely closed the doors behind him, when a shout made him turn around.

“YOU!” Geralt furrowed his eyes at the man stomping over to him, one hand on his hip, the other pointing at him, as if accusing him of a heinous crime. “How dare you!”

“Do I know you?” Geralt asked, suddenly unsure.

“I am Jaskier. And you, Sir, are the reason why all my hopes and dreams are crushed.”

Geralt blinked at him, dumbfounded. “I think you have me confused with someone else.” Looking more closely, he kind of looked like the man he had just brushed aside to enter the office. That had been rude, sure, but it didn’t classify as ruining someone’s dreams.

“Oh do I?” Jaskier came even closer, blue eyes flashing dangerously. “Then you aren’t the one that principal Vengerberg just told me about when she said they already had a better candidate for the –“ he looked around, scanning the halls for any passing students, before he whispered “ for the Santa actor.”

Geralt’s eyebrows shot up. That was what this is about? That man had jabbed a finger at a stranger’s chest because he didn’t get to dress up as Santa? Slowly but surely, Geralt started to understand what Yennefer had meant when she had said that the other volunteer was overexcited. He certainly was passionate, judging from the way his eyes were blazing and his chest was heaving. But Geralt wouldn’t exactly call him an idiot for it. His passion for dressing up as an old man with a beard was certainly strange. It was amusing. But for some reason it was also oddly charming. Especially because Jaskier seemed to do his best not to appear charming. If anything, it looked like he wanted to intimidated him. Geralt’s lips quirked up.

“Oh, don’t go smiling like that.” Jaskier said, angrily brushing his brown fringe out of his eyes. “I am clearly the better choice here. I mean look at you…”

He trailed off, taking his time to follow his own advice. Geralt felt strangely insecure under his scrutiny. Still, he felt disappointed for some reason when Jaskier looked back up again.

“Well, I mean… you…” Jaskier stumbled over his words. His tongue darted over his lips and Geralt had to force himself not to let his eyes linger.

Jaskier’s stuttering was interrupted by the sound of children running through the halls. Immediately, Jaskier shut up and Geralt found himself almost missing the sound of him searching for the right words.

Once the kids were gone, Jaskier relaxed slightly. He sighed, but his eyes were still narrowed at Geralt.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this with children around. Wouldn’t want to ruin any dreams of Santa.”

Geralt hummed in agreement. “So, should we go somewhere else?”

Jaskier looked away. “Oh, like, you mean right now?” He started to fidget. “I don’t really have much time.” He let out a tiny laugh. “To be honest, I thought I could just berate you a bit and you would relent.”

Geralt’s half smile turned into a full on smirk. “That’s the Christmas spirit.”

That laugh escaped Jaskier again, louder and more sincere this time and something in Geralt’s chest started to glow. He wished he could hear that sound again. “Of course,” Jaskier said. “You have to get past the masses in the stores somehow. It’s fight or go home without having bought presents for your loved ones.” He stopped himself and knitted his brows, as if he was berating himself for saying that. Geralt supposed it was a bit strange talking like this with someone he had just yelled at. But he found himself wanting to hear more about Jaskier’s fight to buy presents. Or about anything really.

He hesitated. “Maybe we could meet some other time?” His smirk widened. “So you can yell at me for crushing your dreams some more?”

Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck, lowering his eyes. “Ah, yes, sorry about that. I guess I was just really disappointed. Still am, to be honest.” For a moment, his smile faltered, before it came back full force. “But sure, let’s discuss this later. I promise I won’t yell at you then.” He thought for a second. “How does Saturday sound? At 5 pm? That’s when the Christmas market will begin and I’ve been waiting to go for months.”

Geralt nodded and tried his best not to let the warmth spread through him at the thought that Jaskier – who was still practically a stranger, as he would do well to remember – wanted to spend time with him at a place he was excited about.

“Great!” Jaskier beamed at him. He looked like he was ready to leave, when he halted. “I forgot to ask your name.” His smile turned mischievous and he winked at Geralt, as if he wasn’t already flustered enough. “I think I should know the name of the man who is crushing my dreams, don’t you?”

Geralt could just tell Jaskier the truth. That he didn’t even really want to play Santa. That Jaskier could have that honour all to himself. He could just turn around, go back into Yen’s office and announce that he had made his decision. And yet… that would mean that this would be the end of his short acquaintance with Jaskier.

“Geralt.”

“Well then, Geralt. See you on Saturday.”

--

Geralt was late. He cursed himself for not thinking about the traffic. Of course everyone would rush to get to the opening of the Christmas market.

He weaved his way through the crowd, doing his best to spot a mop of brown hair or catch a glimpse of blue eyes. It was practically impossible. He was searching for ten minutes already. This was useless, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around and leave.

He was just about to give up, when a shout reached his ears.

“Geralt!”

He whirled around, embarrassingly quickly. And there he stood. Squeezed between couples and exasperated parents running after their kids was Jaskier. He was beaming at Geralt, making his heart skip a beat.

Geralt should probably go towards him, but he was frozen to the spot. He could only watch, as Jaskier scrambled through the crowd until he was finally standing before him. His cheeks were red from the cold, he wore a cosy looking scarf and a beanie that hid almost all of his hair.

“So that’s why I couldn’t find you.” The words slipped out of Geralt’s mouth before he could think about how stupid they sounded. When Jaskier cocked his head to the side with a questioning look, Geralt could feel the heat rise into his cheeks. Gesturing vaguely towards Jaskier’s head he added: “The beanie. I was looking for your hair.”

Jaskier laughed, loudly and unashamed, but it didn’t sound like he was laughing at Geralt.

“And here I was thinking you wouldn’t show. Not that I could have blamed you,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I guess I didn’t make the best first impression.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Geralt hesitated. “You were…memorable.”

Geralt should probably just keep his mouth shut. All that left it was dumb. But the way Jaskier’s eyes lit up made it worth it.

“You’re pretty memorable too. Anyway – “Jaskier shoved something at him. More out of surprise than anything, Geralt took the mug. “I’m glad you showed up, or I would have been forced to drink two mugs of mulled wine. Oh, what a tragedy that would have been!” A moment later, he left the overdramatic tone behind and became sincere again. “But really, I’m glad you came.”

Jaskier lifted his mug to his lips and took a swig. Geralt could have sworn, he was trying to hide an embarrassed expression by doing so, but then his breath hitched when Jaskier’s tongue darted out to catch a droplet that clung to his lips and all other thoughts left him.

Someone shoved Jaskier from behind and he almost toppled over. Without thinking, Geralt stepped forward and caught him by the arm.

“Oh.” Jaskier lifted his head, looking up at Geralt in surprise. For a brief moment they just held each other’s gazes, before Jaskier cleared his throat. “Ah, thank you.”

He moved back and Geralt reluctantly let go of him.

“We should probably start moving. I don’t think people appreciate us blocking the way.”

“Good call.”

Jaskier all but dragged him to the nearest stall. Geralt didn’t pay attention to the wares. He was too distracted looking at Jaskier, the excitement evident in his eyes.

“What do you think, Geralt? It’s cute, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Cute.” Geralt shook his head, forcing himself to look at the key chain Jaskier was holding. It was a tiny white cuddly toy wolf.

“It’s you.”

Geralt’s brows shot up.

A blush rose in Jaskier’s cheeks. Or maybe that was just the alcohol mixing with the cold.

“Ah, you know… because of the white hair – I don’t mean that in an offensive way, it looks really good, actually. And I don’t know if you notice, but you see, you keep growling and I just kind of… you know what, forget I said anything.” He put the key chain back.

Something about the way Jaskier’s eyes were downcast and his brows furrowed didn’t sit right with Geralt. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or maybe it was just to see Jaskier smile, but Geralt plastered what he hoped was a teasing grin across his face.

“Do you think I’m cute too?”

Jaskier just stared at him for a second, the red in his face now unmistakably a flush. Shit, Geralt should not have said that. He was just about to play it off as a joke, when Jaskier sent him a mischievous wink. And didn’t say anything.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? You couldn’t just wink at someone and then not say anything! Maybe it hadn’t even been a wink. Maybe he had just blinked. With one eye. Surely, that’s something people did occasionally.

Before Geralt had come to a conclusion, Jaskier had already moved on to the next stall. Geralt stayed close behind him, telling himself that it was only so he wouldn’t lose Jaskier in the crowd. If their hands brushed together, then that was purely coincidentally.

Geralt couldn’t help the tiny smile, when Jaskier bought a Santa hat and put it on instead of his beanie. He spread his arms – as much as he could in the tiny space he had – and twirled around.

“How do I look?” He asked with a grin.

Geralt’s mouth went dry. Beautiful. Jaskier’s boyish smile made his heart race in his chest and the soft light from the Christmas decorations made Jaskier’s skin glow.

But then it hit him like a train, the reason why they were here. It wasn’t because Jaskier liked him, as much as it felt like they were friends. “You look like it was your dream to wear a Santa costume, for whatever reason.”

Jaskier’s smile fell a little and Geralt mentally cursed himself. He couldn’t have just let Jaskier enjoy himself. He just had to bring up the reason why they were here. He held his breath, hoping that Jaskier wouldn’t take the obvious hint and explain himself. Once this talk was over, there would be no more reason for them to spend time together.

“Ah, this is a rather fitting moment to talk about that, isn’t it?” He hesitated for a moment, before taking another sip of his drink. “Can we maybe keep walking while we talk? I don’t really like standing and facing you while I tell you my sob story. It’s kind of awkward.”

Geralt scowled, but did as Jaskier asked. “Is it a sob story? You don’t have to tell me, if it’s uncomfortable for you.” Just his luck to bring up something that took Jaskier’s joy away from something he had been looking forward to.

“Oh, no, don’t worry.” Jaskier let out a tiny laugh. “It’s not that bad. Honestly, I don’t know why I make such a big deal out of it. My parents… they weren’t exactly the loving kind. It’s fine that we didn’t celebrate Christmas, I know a lot of people don’t and that’s cool. But as a child for me, it was kind of hard to see how the other kids would get presents and go to the markets and all that. And they got to believe in Santa.” He huffed. “My parents obviously never told me about Santa and I still feel like I missed out on a huge part of that childhood experience. Except for when the guy dressed up as Santa came to our school and gave us chocolates and whatnot. I knew Santa wasn’t real, but for this one day, I felt like I was allowed to be a child.” He looked down, clutching his mug with both hands, as if it was protecting him from something. “I still don’t celebrate Christmas. I would love to. But all of my friends are visiting their parents over the holidays and heaven knows I’d rather spend time on a Christmas market with a stranger I yelled at, than going back home.” He cracked a small smile and suddenly he looked so unbearably vulnerable.  “So, thanks for being that stranger saving me from spending this time alone. I know it sounds silly, but I want to be that person for someone else. I want to be that stranger that makes others happy, even if only for a few minutes, even if it is just by me dressing up as Santa for some kids who need it.”

He avoided Geralt’s eyes and something dropped in his stomach.

“It doesn’t sound silly.” There was so much more he wanted to say, but it all sounded too personal, so he hoped that that was enough.

Jaskier glanced at him and quirked a smile. “Thanks.”

Geralt didn’t know what else to say, so they just continued walking in silence. Well, almost in silence. It took him a while to realise, but as the tension left Jaskier’s shoulders, he started humming. Geralt vaguely recognised the Christmas carols, but he was too fixated on his voice. It sounded nice. Beautiful actually, even though it was little more than a faint melody almost drowned out in the shouting of the masses around them. He wanted to say something, compliment his voice, ask him to sing louder, but there was a tiny fear holding him back. Maybe Jaskier didn’t even realise he was singing. Maybe it was just something he did when he was comfortable and happy – god, Geralt hoped that Jaskier was happy around him – and calling attention to his humming might make him stop. So he just contented himself to listening to the humming, only interrupted whenever Jaskier took a sip of his mulled wine.

“Ah, bollocks,” Jaskier said quietly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing just – “ Jaskier shrugged sheepishly. “I probably shouldn’t have finished the wine that quickly. The mug was the only thing keeping my hands warm.”

An unbidden urge overcame Geralt, to reach out and hold Jaskier’s hands, warming them with his own. He fought the urge down. It was stupid. Jaskier wouldn’t want that.

Instead Geralt grunted “Stay here.”

He didn’t wait for Jaskier’s response before going back a few stalls. When he came back, Jaskier was giving him a confused look, which changed completely when Geralt thrust out what he was holding in his hands. The smile that split Jaskier’s face was enough to warm Geralt against the cold winter air.

“Geralt, you didn’t!” There was something strange in his voice, something Geralt couldn’t quite name. He hoped it was something good.

“Just take them. I can’t have you freeze your fingers off.”

“I really can’t – “

“Call it a premature Christmas gift.”

Hesitating, Jaskier put on the gloves that had yellow flowers embroidered. For a moment Jaskier just looked at them, his eyes shining.

“You really are trying to convince me that you would be the better Santa, aren’t you?”

“I… that’s not…” Geralt stuttered, his heart clenching uncomfortably.

Jaskier laughed and shoved his arm playfully. Geralt’s heart skipped a beat, when Jaskier didn’t pull away, but let his hand linger on Geralt’s arm.

“I’m just joking.” He tilted his head. “But I am rather intrigued as to why you would want to play Santa for a primary school.”

Geralt grumbled, suddenly unsure what to say. He had known it would come to this eventually, but after what Jaskier had just told him, he felt bad admitting that it wasn’t really his own idea to do this.

“Come on.” Jaskier tugged at his arm.

Geralt growled.

“Oh hoho, my white wolf, you are not getting away with growling at me like this. I told you my story, now you tell me yours.”

Geralt froze. He didn’t know what to focus on here. The fact that Jaskier obviously wouldn’t relent? The way that Jaskier already had a Santa laugh, and an adorable one at that? Or the fact that Jaskier had just called him a white wolf. His white wolf. While his head was still processing all of that, his heart had already decided to latch onto that last detail, replaying the words over and over in his mind.

He made the mistake of looking at Jaskier. His blue eyes looked so curious, so honestly interested in what he had to say.

“It was my brother Lambert’s idea.” For a brief moment he contemplated leaving it at that, but then he remembered Yennefer’s words. “But really, I am doing it for my daughter. She has a difficult time in school and Yennefer – “ Did he imagine the sudden closed off lock in Jaskier’s eyes? “- my ex-wife, says that it would make her happy.” His voice grew softer. “And I think so too. I love Ciri and I know she loves me too, but sometimes I just have a hard time bonding with her. I don’t know what a girl her age likes to do. She likes when I take her to see my horse and she enjoys play fighting with me, but apart from that. I just don’t know if I am enough for her. I never planned on being a single dad. And Yennefer is right. Ciri loves Christmas.” He smiled weakly. “I think she might be the only person I know whose enthusiasm rivals yours.”

When he risked a side glance, he noticed how strangely quiet Jaskier was.

Fuck. He shouldn’t have said that. Just because Jaskier had told him of his parents didn’t mean he had to go and tell him about his worries about his own family.

He felt Jaskier’s hand slip from his arm and his heart sank. Of course he would fuck this up. He couldn’t just let Jaskier have a nice evening at the Christmas market.

But then Jaskier’s hand found his and squeezed carefully.

“I think you’re doing a great job. I’m sure you are a great dad. Look at you, talking about your little girl like she is the most precious thing in the world.”

“She is.”

“And I’m sure she knows you love her. Making children happy. That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?” Jaskier bit his lip. “I’m sure you’ll be a great Santa.��� Something in his tone changed, took on a cheery note that didn’t sound quite right. “I mean look at you. You’re definitely going to be less exhausted from carrying the bag of presents than I would be, what with all your muscles.”

He poked Geralt’s arm with the hand still holding the empty mug, giving him a lopsided grin, that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Still, he sounded sincere when he said “It’s alright, Geralt. I can do it next year. You go make your daughter happy, will you?”

Jaskier hesitated for a heartbeat. Then he brushed his lips against Geralt’s cheek, quickly, a barely- there touch that set Geralt’s skin aflame, before slipping his hand free from Geralt’s and disappearing into the crowd.

--

“Yen, please.”

For the first time since Geralt had stomped into her office fifteen minutes ago, she looked at him. Really looked at him.

Geralt knew he was treading on thin ice. He knew that it was almost impossible to change Yennefer’s mind, especially if it was about a man she had no patience left for. But this was important. To Jaskier. Which meant it was also important to Geralt, for whichever reason.

He held his breath as he watched Yennefer contemplate what he had proposed. Something changed in her expression and a smirk stole onto her lips.

With a sigh, she finally nodded.

--

The beard was itching and Geralt was sweating under the Santa costume. He knew he looked ridiculous. When Lambert had seen him put on the costume, he had been unable to stop laughing – which was a blessing, since his laughing fits were the only thing keeping him from getting a good picture of Geralt in this ridiculous get up.

But it was good enough for the children. As Geralt asked them if they had been good kids this year, Ciri smiled at him. And when he turned and asked his elf-assistant to hand out the sweets, Jaskier’s whole face lit up. And somehow, returning the children’s smiles and relaxing came easy for him, when he knew he just had to look to the side to see that smile.

When Geralt stepped back and let Jaskier – wearing elf ears and ridiculously colourful tights and still somehow looking like the prettiest person Geralt had ever seen – sing carols with the children, his heart melted.

If anyone had told Geralt that he would long for time to slow down, while he was wearing this ridiculous costume, he would have laughed. But now the clocks all seemed to tick faster than normal, too fast, and before he knew it, his bag was empty and he was standing next to Jaskier just outside the school’s line of sight.

For a while they just stood there awkwardly, neither of them knowing what to say.

Finally, Jaskier broke the silence.

“Thank you, Geralt.” He sounded almost hesitant, but his voice is thick with emotion. “Really. I didn’t think Vengerberg would let me be a part of this and after what you had said at the market, I was so ready to just step back but then…” He looked down and Geralt’s heart dropped when he heard Jaskier sniffle and do his best to inconspicuously wipe away a stray tear. “then I got that call from her and I just… I can’t thank you enough.”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably. “It’s nothing.”

Jaskier looked back up, his brows knitted together and a disbelieving smile on his lips. “Nothing? Geralt it’s everything! You made sure that I finally got to do what I had wanted to do since I was a kid!”

“You didn’t get to play Santa.”

“No,” Jaskier said. “But that’s not what it’s about. It’s about making others happy. And damn it, Geralt, you just keep making me so incredibly happy. Doing this with you was so much better than being Santa on my own.”

Geralt didn’t know what to say, so instead he just hummed and hoped it would be enough, that Jaskier would understand what he wasn’t able to put into words.

“Can I… this is going to sound stupid and you can absolutely say no, but-“ Jaskier wet his lips with his tongue, looking nervous suddenly. “Can I hug you?”

Geralt’s heart sped up. His mouth went dry. His mind had no say, as he opened his arms.

Jaskier lit up like a beacon, before rushing to embrace Geralt. He wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.

Geralt wasn’t sure if he actually heard the muffled “Thank you” against his chest. His heart was beating far too loud and the only thing he could focus on was the feeling of Jaskier in his arms. It felt right somehow. He never wanted this hug to end.

His breath hitched when Jaskier snuggled even closer and –

“Oh gods, this is terrible.” Jaskier coughed, mixed in with laughter.

Geralt’s heart plummeted, when Jaskier drew back, still coughing.

“Are you alright?” It wasn’t what he wanted to ask, but it was better than Was being close to me that bad? Did I overstep by hugging you back? Did I fuck up again?

Jaskier let out another laugh, which was cut short by a cough.

“Sure, I just –“ He lifted his hand, pulling something from his mouth. “I may or may not have breathed in your beard. As adorable as it looks, it doesn’t taste very good. God, there is so much hair in my mouth.”

He spluttered, and scrunched his nose up in what Geralt could only describe as adorable. No man had the right to look that beautiful while wearing elf-ears and coughing up hair.

“I should take it off,” Geralt said, lifting his hands to finally take the itching thing off.

“No wait!” He was stopped by Jaskier’s hand on his. “I need to take a picture of us! I want to have something to remember this by.”

Geralt didn’t fight when Jaskier pulled out his phone. He even smiled – really smiled – when he saw himself next to Jaskier on the screen. They both looked stupid in their costumes and Geralt wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jaskier put the phone away and the uncomfortable silence came back.  

This was it. Every moment now Jaskier would turn around and leave and this would be the end of their short acquaintance.

Geralt should say something. Everything in him screamed to say something, anything, to make Jaskier stay a little longer. This was the perfect opportunity. He could give Jaskier his number under the pretence of being send the picture.

But the moment passed. Jaskier gave him a half-smile. He waved as he turned around and left Geralt standing in a Santa costume on his own. He had missed his chance.

--

Christmas eve was always wonderful for Geralt. It was true, his small family was chaotic and he and Lambert would bicker about anything, while Ciri and Eskel laughed at them and Vesemir grumbled something while shaking his head fondly. The Christmas tree might have the strangest decoration, due to all of them having vastly different tastes – Lambert insisted on the tackiest decoration, just for shits and giggles – and the food wasn’t very festive. Geralt wouldn’t have it any other way. It was family. It was home.

The ringing of the bell ripped Geralt out of his thoughts.

“I’ll go,” Ciri piped up and left the room to open the door.

A minute or so passed, before Geralt heard her shout from the entrance.

“Dad, can you come, please?” A pause and then added with a giggle, “It’s Santa.”

It wasn’t unusual. Around Christmastime there would always be a few people dressing up and visiting houses. Most of them expected money in return for singing some carols.

Geralt was already fishing for some cash from his wallet, as he walked up to the front door, without looking up at the Santa standing there.

As soon as he got there, Ciri dashed past him, back to the others.

“Hello, Geralt.”

His head snapped up. It couldn’t be. But there he was, leaning against the doorframe with a lopsided smile on his face and wearing the Santa hat he had bought at the Christmas market. Where the hat didn’t cover him, a few stray snowflakes covered his hair.

Jaskier was the last person he had expected to show up on his doorstep today – or ever. The small part of him that wasn’t occupied with how radiating Jaskier looked, had a hard time comprehending that he was really here.

And so the first thing he said to the most beautiful man he thought he’d never see again was as smooth as sandpaper.

“How the fuck did you find my house?”

Geralt winced as soon as the words had left him. That was the stupidest thing he could have said. The last thing he had wanted to do was make Jaskier feel like he wasn’t welcome.

But Jaskier snorted. “I asked Yennefer. It was terrifying.” With a cheeky wink he added, “but absolutely worth it, if only for the warm welcome I received from you.”

“I… ah. Fuck.” Jaskier’s smile widened as he watched Geralt stumble over what to say. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” Jaskier hesitated for a second, his hands rubbing together nervously. Something warm and fuzzy swelled in Geralt’s chest.

“You’re wearing the gloves,” he said without thinking, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. “The ones I bought you.”

Jaskier startled. “Oh, yeah. Of course! They are my favourite; they are just so soft. Do you want to feel?”

Geralt nodded automatically. He would agree to anything, if it meant Jaskier would stay here a little longer, before realising that he had absolutely no good reason to be here and left. Geralt expected Jaskier to pull off one glove and hand it to Geralt. Instead, Jaskier took a step closer to him and reached for his cheek. Geralt didn’t dare breathe, as Jaskier caressed him. Despite the cloth preventing their skin from touching, it felt like Geralt was on fire where they touched. He prayed Jaskier didn’t notice him leaning into the touch.

It was over far too quickly.

“Well?”

Geralt swallowed. “It felt nice. The glove, I mean. It’s… it’s nice.”

“Yeah…” Jaskier cleared his throat. “In fact it’s so nice that I figured I should give you something in return.”

Geralt drew back. “You don’t – Jaskier, I didn’t give them to you because I wanted anything in return. You were just cold and I thought…. I won’t take your money.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Good thing I don’t want to give you money then.” He reached inside the pocket of his jacket and brought forth a small present, holding it out for Geralt. “Merry Christmas.”

Geralt barely registered the uncertain look on his face. His heart was too preoccupied pounding in his chest.

“It’s not much. And the packaging sucks, because I still have no idea how to wrap gifts. But I thought maybe you’d like it. As a reminder of when you didn’t crush my dreams.”

Geralt huffed out a laugh when he peeled off the wrapping paper with Hohoho written over it. It should have been festive, but it only made Geralt think of Jaskier’s laugh.

The last of the paper fell away and Geralt held two key chains in his hand.

Jaskier rubbed his fingers together. “I told you it’s not much. I know it’s not the greatest gift.”

“A horse?” he asked without thinking.

“You mentioned that you took your daughter to see your horse sometimes. So… I assumed you like horses.” He pulled a face. “Sorry, that sounded weird.”

“I mentioned Roach once. In passing. And you remembered?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, a timid smile appearing on his face. “Of course I remembered. How often do you meet a guy who actually has a horse? That’s pretty cool. You don’t just forget something like that.”

Geralt was sure his face was fully red. In a pitiful attempt to distract from the fact that he was incredibly close to hugging Jaskier once more, he looked back at the other keychain. He couldn’t keep the smile of his face.

“And a wolf.” He held it carefully in his hand, just like Jaskier had when he had seen it on the Christmas market.

“I went back there and got it for you.” There was the smallest hint of hesitation, before Jaskier added, “And to answer your question…I do think you’re cute too.”

Geralt’s words of thanks got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t have heard correctly. But the words repeated over and over in his head, the suddenly timid look on Jaskier’s face the proof that he had actually said it.

“Anyway.” Jaskier rubbed his neck. “I just wanted to give that to you. I probably should go now. Wouldn’t want to impose on you.” The words were rushed and he was already turning around. “So, have fun with your family. Merry Christmas.”

Panic rose in Geralt. He had missed so many chances, he couldn’t let this one slip through his fingers as well.

“Stay with me,” he blurted out, desperate to keep Jaskier from leaving. If he left now, Geralt was sure he wouldn’t be granted another chance. “You said you don’t have anyone to celebrate with. So do it with us. Lambert, my brother is a bit rough, but I’m sure you’d get along with Eskel.” Geralt knew he was rambling, but he needed Jaskier to stay. “And Ciri already adores you for dressing up as an elf and I’m sure my father would like to meet you. And we always cook too much anyway and -”

Jaskier came closer again, a soft expression on his face that Geralt longed to see more often.

“And it would make me happy,” he ended.

A heartbeat passed. And Geralt realised what he had just said. He had invited someone whom he had known for less than a week to spend Christmas with his family. It was stupid. No one in their right mind would say yes to that. Least of all Jaskier, who was sunshine and loud laughs and soft hums. There was no reason he would want to spend this day which he loved so much with Geralt of all people.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. “You don’t have to,” he forced himself to say. “Forget I said anything.”

“I’d rather not forget it,” Jaskier said softly and suddenly his eyes lit up like a lighthouse, shining through a tempest. “I’d love to celebrate with you.”

He hesitated for only the briefest moment, before standing on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss against Geralt’s cheek.

With a grin he added, “And I’m sure, Lambert isn’t so bad. If I remember correctly, he’s the one I have to thank for meeting you.”

“Don’t you dare thank him.” Geralt’s grin belied his growl. “If you tell him that something actually good came out of him going behind my back, he will never let me live it down.”

Jaskier laughed. “We can’t that now, can we? Don’t worry, I won’t tell him that I owe him my happiness.”

He followed Geralt inside the house and throughout the evening stayed true to his word. Still, Lambert sent Geralt a knowing smirk. Geralt was sure he wouldn’t hear the end of it, but looking at Jaskier smile and laugh with his family, looking like he fit right in, made him think that this was definitely worth enduring Lambert’s smugness.

[underatedcharactersunite]

A Tale of Two Souls; Meeting Jaskier

Summary; As Geralt and Y/N continue to journey to their next location, they come across a Bard named Jaskier. From that moment onwards, Y/N's life is turned upside down. Her life is no longer envolving around fighting Monsters and exploring the world. Jaskier draws out emotions that she buried a long time ago. Who knows what's going to happen.  Pairing; Jaskier X Female Reader WordCount; 3,234 Warnings; A couple of swear words. Angst, Fluff 

Series Masterlist

Travelling with Geralt was a unique experience. On one hand, it was extremely rewarding, being able to travel to many beautiful and adventurous places, on the other hand, it often entitled getting covered in some sort of creature guts.

Apart from that Geralt's company was rather pleasant. Contrary to people's opinions about Witcher's; Geralt was not heartless nor a Monster instead, he could be kind and often put other's before himself. Over the years, Geralt had become like a brother to you, a very overprotective, menacing brother, who would willingly kill anyone, who ventured to mess with you.

"The Tavern is not too far from here. We will stop and have a drink." Looking ahead as you rode on your horse Tarot, Geralt was right, in the faint distance you could make out the Taverns silhouette.

"You mean I'll drink one while you attempt to drink the entire Tavern dry." You taunted. You were fortunate with Geralt, while he was not a massive talker, he was never easily offended. So ridiculing between the two of you was light and playful.

"You should learn to be quicker if you want more than one cup." Grinning, the two of you proceeded in silence as you made your way up towards the Tavern.

Entering any location with Geralt always had to be approached with caution. Any stranger was a potential contender for inherent conflict. The ancient tales of Witcher's had left everyone with a bitter attitude. People will often quick to require Geralt's services, yet the moment he entered the territory they deemed theirs they suddenly. considered it their right to throw stones and insults.

It occurred almost every location, the two of you visited. It disturbed you how willingly they were to ask Geralt to kill the Monster, but the second he required a place to eat or sleep they wanted nothing to do with him.

Tying up Roach and Tarot, you pressed a loving pet on Tarot's head. In the background, you could some sort of music a bard trying to get paid perhaps. Entering the Tavern, your suspicions were correct. As long as he frained an attempt to bother the two of you, he would be fine.

Taking a seat at the table in the darkest corner that was spare. You called the women over who was passing out the beverages. It was easier for you to ask, less eventuality for conflict. Removing two from her tray, you presented her with some coin to pay for them.

"You didn't have to do that."

"Geralt, I thought we already spoke of this. We take turns in paying for things. We are equal in this friendship. That means paying for things equally." Taking a sip of your mead, you acknowledged your surroundings. The Tavern wasn't all too bad. You and Geralt had frequented worst places, this by far was one of the finer ones.

"We'll have these and then go, try and find a place to camp for the night." You nodded, staying in one place was never a particularly wise idea. Besides, while the two of you stopped anyway, the two of you weren't able to find anyone who needed your services. 

Meanwhile, the Bard continued to sing. Unlike most Bards you previously encountered, this one could sing. His voice soothed your aching mind as you focused on the mead in the cup in front of you. The regulars who frequented the Tavern didn't seem to match with your opinions as they very quickly began to chuck bread rolls at him.

You attempted to force down the laughter that strived to leave your lips. Geralt's eyebrow raised as you forced your cup onto your lips to stifle your laughter. It was all fun and games, until out of the corner of your eye did you witness the Bard travel across the room over to you both.

"I love how you sit in the corner and brood, am I interrupting something?" The Bard questioned as you glanced over to Geralt. You had observed the expression on his unreadable face many times before. If only the Bard was as clued onto Geralt as you were. 

"We do not wish to be disturbed." Geralt explained, turning his head away from the Bard, while you decided to take a proper glance at him.

The Bard's eyes were a gorgeous shade of grey contrast to his brown hair which framed his face attractively. You didn't miss the thick patch of chest hair that threatened to escape his peaking from his jacket. Overall, the Bard was attractive.

"Good, yeah good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance. Except you two. Come on, you don't wanna keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less." Observing Geralt's signature eye roll, you knew the Bard was going to deal with Geralt's coldness.

The bard seemed unphased as he took the seat right next to you, anxiously anticipating Geralt's thoughts. Geralt was unpredictable, and you had no sign on how was going to reply to the Bard.

"They don't exist."

"What doesn't exist?" The Bard appeared genuinely confused, but you knew exactly the point Geralt was about to make. Taking a sip of the mead as you observed the conversation unfold. The conversation unfolding in front of your very eyes had been the most entertaining one you'd encountered in a while.

"The creatures in your song."

"Yeah, and how would you know.” 

"Oh fun, white hair, Big old loner, two very very scary looking swords. I know who you are." As Geralt stood to remove himself from the Bard, you quickly understood it was time to go. Picking up your sword and your bag, you threw it over your shoulder and followed Geralt.

"You're the Witcher? Geralt of Rivia. So if you're Geralt, then you must be Y/N, the enchanting Shieldmaiden. I must say words cannot truly describe your beauty. Called it!"

Within moments, you recognised that while the Bard was gifted in singing and flattery, digression was not one of his gifts. A simple rest top turned into work. One of the patrons named Netty, needed a Devil killing who was stealing their grain. Knowing well enough that the creature they had witnessed was not actually "The Devil" you didn't know quite what you meant to be searching for.

Walking besides Tarot, you followed Geralt quietly. At least the two of you had seemed to rid yourself of the Bard. Although the damage had been done. You presumed it was better than having stones thrown at you, or being chucked out. Besides a job is a job after all.

"Need a hand. I've got two, one for each of the Devil's horns." Out of no-where, the Bard came running down the hill. Perhaps walking away was not a distinct enough hint that Geralt was not willing for company.

"Go away."

"I won't be but a silent backup. Look I heard your note, and yes maybe real adventures would make better stories and you Sir smell choc-full of them amongst other things. I mean what is that Onion, it doesn't matter. Whatever it is, you smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak."

"It's onion."

"Right yeah. Oh, I could be your barker, spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the butcher of Blaviken. What about you, my sweet lady? Surely you could tell me the many tales that the two of you have shared."

"Geralt it appears you have finally have a fan. Road life does not place well for a Bard. Go back to the Tavern. We'll deal with "the Devil"

"Jaskier, my name is Jaskier." Giving Jaskier a gentle smile, you quickened your step.

"It was lovely to meet you Jaskier, come on Tarot."  Walking away, you got several paces in-front of Geralt before he stopped. I thought he was trying to get away from Jaskier. As Geralt turned and glanced at Roach, you had a sinking feeling. This wasn't about to be pleasant.

"Come here."

A horrific thud, and a rattle of Jaskier's lute, he hunched over in agony. If that was not bad enough, Jaskier landed onto the ground with remarkable force. Credit it needed to be given you observed, Jaskier attempted to get up straight away. Against your better nature, you let go of Tarot's reigns to check on Jaskier.

"What have I told you about punching Bards? And you were my polite warnings not enough. Also, why do I get the feeling, you being punched happens a lot." Running a hand through your hair, you bent over to check on Jaskier. Surprisingly Jaskier was nothing but a little winded.

"He was following us, what else was I meant to do?" Setting eyes on Geralt, you cocked your eyebrow.

"I don't know perhaps telling him to leave us alone."

"Wasn't that exactly what you were attempting to do? With excellent failure might I add." Frowning at Geralt's words you rolled your eyes, while you directed your head to Jaskier, you did not miss the small twitch of Geralt's lips. At least someone was amused.

"Jaskier, as you have just experienced. Travelling with a Witcher is dangerous, especially to Bards. Now please return to the Tavern, where you will be safe from everything, including Geralt." Turning away from Jaskier, you mounted Tarot just like Geralt had done with Roach expecting to leave the Bard behind.

"Reading between the lines and the gut punches. Chum, I'd say you have a bit of an image problem. Were I to join you, on this feat to defeat the devil of Posada, I could I relieve you of that title. All the North would be too busy singing the tales of Geralt of Rivia the white wolf or something."

"Butcher is right." You frowned when Geralt said that. You were there when Geralt encountered Renfri you knew he had no choice. They forced him into a decision that was cruel and unfair.

"Geralt, we both know what happened that day was not your fault."

"Do you mind if I hop on there with you, I'm not exactly wearing the right footwear."

"Don't touch Roach." Several paces later, Geralt hoped off of Roach, tying her to a nearby tree. Following Geralt's actions, you joined Geralt by the tree.

"Stay alert and watch the Bard. We don't need a dead Bard on our hands." Agreeing with Geralt, you lightly touched his arm. Geralt never liked being touched, but he understood sometimes you needed to reassure him without saying anything. Following Geralt, you forgot Jaskier had recently joined the two of you.

"Geralt...Y/N...Geralt...Where are you going? Geralt, Y/N, don't leave me? Y/N I thought you were better than him. Hello. What are we looking for again?"

“Blessed Silence,”

"Yeah, I don't really go in for that." Laughter escaped your lips, walking silently alongside Geralt.

"Have you ever hunted a devil before Geralt?"

"Devil's don't exist."

"Then what are we doing?"

"Sometimes there are monsters sometimes there's money rarely both. That's the life."

Out of no-where, something darted past your head. Your senses heightened. Something or someone was out there, and they knew you were there.

“Shit!” Geralt yelled, examing Geralt understanding that as the unknown object darted past you, it had skimmed Geralt's forehead.

"Act two begins. What was that it looks like a tiny cannonball. Oh my gosh, Geralt it is a Devil. Oh, I have to see this magical this mythical-" Jaskier didn't get to finish his sentence as something hit him directly in the forehead and once again he hit the ground with a thud.

"Jaskier!"

"Stay with him I'll deal with Monster." Closing your eyes for a moment, you studied at Geralt.

"Geralt, I thought we made a deal." You contested, but Geralt was already marching away when he decided to stop and shift back to you.

"I agreed to stop hitting Bards."

"The other deal. The one where we deal with Monsters together. So neither of us die."

"I agreed to that when we didn't have to protect the Bard. That is your job. Long ago remember what we promised each other?"  

"To make this work, we needed to trust each other." With a hum, Geralt continued marching away, leaving you to deal with Jaskier. Kneeling beside him, you sighed.

"I did warn you in all fairness, but of course you didn't listen. Which means that you'll probably be staying with us, lesson one in being Geralt's companion. If something is thrown at you duck because they never throw only once."

"Lesson two, don't enter someone else's territory." An unknown voice broke your gaze on Jaskier's face. Something hard and heavy smacked your face, knocking you out.

Waking up, my body felt constricted. What happened? One moment you were giving an unconscious Jaskier his first lesson, the second you remember nothing but blackness. It didn't help someone else was trying to escape also.

"This is the part where we escape." You heard Jaskier's voice, at least he was awake, on your other side, you glanced down at the familiar black armour.

"This is the part where they kill us."

"Who's they?" A young female elf came out of no-where, kicking you directly in the face. The main was excruciating, as you opened and closed your jaw trying to get some feeling back into it. She was quick to kick both Geralt and Jaskier, not leaving anyone out.

"Elves."

"Hey that's my lute, give that back. Geralt, do ya Witchering"

"If it's that simple, do you think we'd be all tied up right now?" You snarled, trying to think of a way to get you out of this situation. Receiving another round of kicks, you glared at the female elf if you got free you swore she was going to pay for this. With the female elf speaking in Elvish, you translated it perfectly.

"Oh my elvish speech is rough I only got part of that."

"Humans shut up."

Jaskier spoke back in Elvish, and at that moment, you truly wanted to punch him.

"Do you wanna die right now?" The female elf spoke, turning in Jaskier's direction, trying to make eye contact with him.

"Jaskier, I will buy you a new lute if you just shut up."

"As opposed to later." Geralt snarled. You were beginning to wonder, how you were calm, while the other two were terrified.

"No please not the lute." All of you received another kicking, yours this time aimed perfectly at your chest.

"Leave off he's just a Bard, and she's just a young woman." Unfortunately, the female elf didn't take too kindly to Geralt's words, punches began hitting him repeatedly in the face.

"Leave him alone! What did he do to you? Nothing. We were just walking through, enjoying the scenery." The female elf stopped punching Geralt, turning her focus directly onto you.

"You don't deserve the air you breathe. Everything you touch you destroy." The female elf began to punch after punch directly across your face, but you kept still. Each punch caused the other elf in the corner to snap the lute. Throwing her knee up until your face, you hissed.

"You hide in your golden palaces, beat a bound man and a woman too scared to even look at them in the eye," Jaskier yelled as you rested your head back, working your hands to find his. This was never meant to be his problem to deal with.

"Do you like my golden Palace. Hmm, does it live up to the tales you humans tell?" As she gripped Geralt's jaw, he took the time to headbutt her. She landed a distance away from us, fair enough for the beatings to stop for now.

"Wait what's wrong with her?"

"She's sick."

"Oh, who's this?"

"He's Filavandrel, King of the elves."

"You were stealing from them." The Devil looking creature, explained the situation between the elves and the humans. How they were forced out of their homes, and have to use a Slyivian to do their bidding.

"No-one was supposed to get hurt."

"What's three humans in the ground? When countless elves have died."

"One human, the other's complicated."

"Thanks for that Geralt."

"Let them both go."

"Then Posada will know that we've been stealing. Humans will attack, many will die on both sides."

"The lesser evil. No matter what you chose, you'll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me." Geralt's words stung. Knowing that after all this time, he was unable to see himself just as you saw him hurt you in unimaginable ways. "Well that's the problem, I can't, and this is necessary."

"I understand, as long as you understand that it won't be long before you follow me in death."

"Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil, even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic."

"Chaos is the same as it's always been. Humans just adapted better."

"You say adapt, and I say destroy."

"You are choosing to starve, your cutting off your ear to spite your face."

"You think this is about pride. My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. When they fought back, they were slaughtered. The great cleansing humans called it. I called it digging a mass grave. For everyone I loved. Now the humans proudly watch these fields, grow. Our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don’t wish to bury anyone else. I was once Filavandrel of the Silver towers, now I’m Filavandrel of the edge of the world. If I bring my people down from the mountains, it would mean bowing to humans. They’ll make slaves of us”

"Then go somewhere else. Rebuild, get strong again. Show the humans that you are more then what they fear you to be."

“Like you Witcher.”

"Not too long ago, I felt like you. I was angry at the entire world, the situations I was placed in. The way my life turned out. I saw the good in no-one. Until Geralt found me one day. Geralt taught me to accept everyone, no matter what they have done to you in the past." You informed Filavandrel only the top of a very long and complicated story.

“She's right. I have learnt to live with them. It wasn't easy, but I realised to live,I needed to learn to deal with them."

"Please my King there are others a new generation, of us that wish to fight. Let us take back what's ours. Starting with now." Filavandrel released his knife never in your wildest dreams could you imagine did you imagine dying with Geralt and a newfound Bard.

"Wait, the Witcher could have killed me, but he didn't. He's different. Like us." Torque was shoved aside by Filavandrel.

"If you must kill me. I am ready. But the Slyivan’s right, don’t call me human."

Hearing Geralt so willing to die, broke your heart into smithereens as you stared down in your lap to prevent anyone from the tears that escaped your eyes. You didn't need to look at Geralt to know he was currently staring at the blade. Waiting anxiously for your fate, in a way you were almost glad that Filavandrel had decided to kill you all. It was better than dealing with Geralt afterwards.

One.

Two

Three.

Thud.