#eskel the knight

[justhereforeskel]

Knight Eskel is done! 👏💜🐻

I'm actually really happy with how this turned out! I always forget how much fun I have with heraldry design work, it's both incredibly fun and super relaxing to work on.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

This was designed to be a deskmat for myself and a friend - if you want one too, it's up on my RB - as well as a sticker of just Knight Eskel (Link in pinned post) 💜🐺

[sleepybabybees]

Some shadow company ones- ft my 2 Ocs Oryn and Eskell (may make a post about them later-)

--

Oryn: Ah shit, I forgot.

Graves: Forgot what?

Oryn: How do you expect me to answer that?

--

Eskell: Oh, my God. Do you know what this is?

Graves: It’s a book. There’s a lot of those in here, this is a library.

--

Oryn: I have one foot in the grave but in a kind of fun flirty way, the way one might slip on a fishnet stocking.

--

Oryn: Why would anyone want to harm Graves?

Eskell: Maybe because they met him?

--

Oryn: There's no way he likes me back.

Graves: Eskell would throw himself in front of a moving car for you.

Oryn: Eskell would throw himself in front of a moving car for fun.

--

Graves: Eskell, that’s disgusting. You’re only giving free stuff to beautiful people.

Oryn: Yeah, you should be ashamed of yourself.

Eskell: Oh yeah? *gets really close to Oryn* How about a muffin on the house baby?

Oryn, giggling: I’m pretty.

Graves: I hate it here-

--

Oryn: Come on, Graves. Nobody actually believes that Eskell is in love with me.

Graves, to The Squad: Raise your hand if you think that Eskell is helplessly in love with Oryn.

*Everyone raises their hand*

Oryn: Eskell, put your hand down.

--

Graves: I dare you to kiss the next person who walks into this room.

Oryn: Screw that, I’m not kissing any of you.

*Eskell walks in*

Oryn: Fine, I’ll do it. Rules are rules you know.

--

Soap: Hey, what have you two been up to?

Ghost: We were helping Oryn write their vows, but they kicked us out because Graves was making inappropriate suggestions.

Graves: How is “Eskell, I love your sweet ass” inappropriate?

Soap: this is why I tried to blow him up in a tank.

--

Graves: Hey, what have you two been doing?

Oryn: we were helping Soap with their wedding vows and we were kicked out of their house for making it inappropriate.

Eskell: How is “Nice ass, Ghost” inappropriate?

Graves: not everyone needs to hear soap mention ghosts ass in his vows, Moon.

Eskell: I would-

Oryn and graves: we know.

--

Eskell: Are we really going to let Ghost keep Soap?

Oryn: We kept Graves.

--

Graves as a child: I can’t wait to grow up and have cool adventures!

Graves now: I can’t wait to go to bed.

--

Graves: Legend says that when you can’t sleep, it means you’re awake in someone else’s dreams.

Graves: When I find out who you are, I’m going to punch you in the face.

--

Graves: You can de-escalate literally any situation by asking ‘are we about to kiss?’

Graves: Doesn't work with getting out of speeding tickets, though.

[starwrittenfates-a]

@wanderingwolfwitcher continued from X

"Sounds good. How about we meet near Castel Ravello around...I think nighttime would be best, during all the evenings celebrations? After all, there is a reason Toussaint is famous for it's wines. Everyone will practically be drunk and it will give us more of an advantage to slip away into the night. I also think Nazair would be our best bet in looking for a ship. It's closer to where we need to take off for our destination and if the Empire disturbs us, worry not, I have a card to play for that."

Syanna couldn't help but clutch her hand behind her back at the name of familiar city. Nazair was just as important to her as Beauclair. It was where she had started over anew after being exiled by her own family, being adopted into a new one and becoming something other than she was. It was only fitting for her to return back there once again, following the same footsteps, except trying to do better this time.

"I will also make sure to pack some provisions we may need that could come in handy," she said, grabbing a coin purse as example and shaking it before placing it in a bag with a smug smile. However, her gaze slightly softened looking at him as she realized the risk and position she would be putting him in for this journey alone. If they didn't succeed in this, not only would they have a sorcerer after them, but all of Toussaint as well. And Syanna didn't think her sister could be so lenient with her a second time... "I'll see you soon, Eskel."

And with that, she bid him goodbye and closed the door.

[megraen]

When Fiona Leask first awoke on The Continent, she was pulling herself from the Pontar River that boarded Redania and Temeria. Her body was fatigued, like all strength ripped from her as if she’d been running for days. At the time, she could only remember sitting a distance from Stonehenge in the English countryside of Salisbury Plains of Wiltshire County. She’d been sketching the ancient stone monument in an old leather-bound journal her father had gifted her for her twenty-first birthday just months prior. Another gift from her parents had been an all-expenses paid historical tour of the United Kingdom for her to experience and learn about her ancestors and her homeland. So when she awoke in the rapids of that river, struggling to swim and coughing up her lungs, she had assumed that she had somehow ended up in the River Avon, which ran southeast of the stone monument. With little strength, Fiona had been able to drag herself to a nearby bank, dragging her soaked body across dirt, stones and sticks. At the same time, she fought to regain her breath before finally rolling onto her back to gaze up at the sky, the midday sun looming overhead in a patch of sky opened up between a thicket of treetops. 

Fiona didn’t even get a chance for her mind to process how she’d ended up in the river nor how she managed to just survived such an ordeal when an eerie sound perked her ears. A gurgly screech was like something she’d never heard before. Fiona fought through the pain that wracked her body to sit up on her elbow. But what she saw made her freeze. Her eyes widened as they landed on a trio of bloated humanoid-looking creatures. Skin blue and covered in scales and webbed hands and toes, they hunched over as their large white pupilless eyes were trained on her, moving towards her. Fiona could only lay there as they shuffled towards her like foul monsters out of a nightmare. Not even a scream could force its way out of her clenched lips. They were foul-looking monsters straight out of a nightmare or some grotesque horror movie. With shuddering breaths, Fiona’s eyes slowly closed, giving in and accepting defeat as the creatures came closer, their wet feet padding along the dirt. 

There was the sound of something moving fast, its feet thudding against the riverbank as they moved. Fiona heard the swings as something cut through the air, the sickly sounds of flesh being hacked off in single blows and blood splattering the earth. She finally released the breath she’d been holding when her eyes shot open, taking in the gruesome sight before her. The hulking stranger moved with such speed and grace that it was as if he was dancing between the creatures as his silver blade sliced completely through limbs. Time seemed to move slowly as she watched it all unfold before her, her breathing beginning to return to a steady rhythm. With a final swing of his sword, the man spun, his blade flicking downwards as the last of the creature's blood gripped from the steel. He was breathing hard as his amber eyes focused on the woman lying in the dirt before him, allowing Fiona to take in his appearance. The man was dressed like someone from a Renaissance festival or the Live Action Roleplaying scene with his old worn clothes made from cotton and leather, his brown stringy hair half tied up to keep it out of his face, the right side badly scarred. He was Eskel, a Witcher of School of the Wolf, based out of Kaer Morhen.

[inexplicifics]

If you're still doing snippets, I don't think we've had the Eldritch Trio one yet?

Also the Weird Omegaverse Warprize Thing is intriguing from the bits so far.... honestly I'm generally stoked for the entirety of the list.

If you feel like showing off one that hasn't been mentioned yet, blank space here!

Eldritch Trio:

The trio are all staring at Voltehre in bafflement as Lambert sits down. Well, Gweld is staring a little bit over Voltehre’s head. He never looks anyone in the eye unless he means to overpower their will. But the bafflement is still definitely there. “Hello,” Eskel says at last, a little warily. “Did you lose a bet?” “No,” Voltehre says, giving Eskel a sunny smile. “I wanted to say hello, and Lam thinks you’re fascinating.” Lambert covers his face with a hand and prays the Grasses really did destroy his ability to blush. “Fascinating,” Geralt rumbles, and Lambert shudders at the sound. It’s not fear running down his spine, though maybe it should be. “Fascinating,” Gweld lilts, sounding amused. Lambert puts his hands on the table to push himself upright - he isn’t going to stay here and be mocked, fuck Voltehre for dragging him into this - One of Eskel’s tentacles curls around his wrist. “Stay,” Eskel says. “Fascinating’s better than most of the things we get called when they think we can’t hear.”

Weird omegaverse war prize thing:

As the barbarians finish eating, they get up and leave the hall, without any ceremony whatsoever; by the time Jaskier has cleared his plate, the hall is three-quarters empty. And it’s as he’s setting his mug down empty - he has to admit he rather likes the strong tisane they were served - that a beautiful young woman gets up from one of the other tables, leans down to kiss the barbarian she was sitting next to on the mouth, and comes striding over to the omegas. She’s tall and blonde, with blue-grey eyes and a generously curved figure that suggests both strength and probable fertility, and as she gets close enough to smell, Jaskier realizes she’s an omega. He wracks his brain hastily, but he doesn’t think the young barbarian she kissed was one of those who claimed any of Jaskier’s companions, so she’s probably not coming over to assert her own prior claim to her alpha - “Hullo,” she says, sliding onto the bench across from Jaskier. “I’m Julita.”

And for the author's choice - knight!Milena

The first thing Lambert thinks when he sees the armored figure riding at the manticore is, Well shit, that’s a waste of a good horse. It is a good horse: an enormous black stallion, maybe even larger than Scorpion, with absolutely beautiful conformation. It dwarfs its rider entirely; Lambert, watching the coming catastrophe with a grimace, assumes some squire has stolen his knight-master’s mount and is trying to prove himself worthy of his spurs, and is just going to get himself eaten for his trouble. Manticores are basically only vulnerable at eyes and mouth, and the chances of the rider hitting either of those with a lance-tip from a full gallop are… Lambert’s own mouth drops open, and he stands there gaping like a complete nitwit as the rider’s lance takes the manticore squarely in its open maw, the full force of the horse’s weight behind it, and the manticore goes back on its haunches and then over onto its side, taking the lance with it. The rider reins in the horse, curving neatly away from the fallen monster, and trots around to face his defeated enemy, sensibly drawing his sword as he goes. The manticore is busy going through its death throes, though; the rider halts his horse and waits, alert but unmoving, until the creature finally breathes its last.

[friendlyreaderandco]

Ah! I lost another fic! I need to be better at bookmarking the ones I like! I’m 90% sure this one is a completed multi chapter on Ao3.

In this one Jaskier winters in Kaer Morhen. He ends up being very cuddly with all the Witchers (Lambert, Eskel, and Geralt). They all share a bed and really love Jaskier. I remember that lambert makes a comment at one point about how Jaskier will die soon and so they all stop touching him and Jaskier starts to get sad and insecure. Then vesemir goes to bed early since the room smells so sad at dinner. Jaskier all but yells at them asking why they seem to think he is a monster before he admits that he isn’t fully human and freaks out a bit before they all hug him and tell them it doesn’t make a difference.

I can’t remember who Jaskier is in love with. It’s either Geralt or all three of them! Also pretty sure Jaskier is part wood elf and he doesn’t age and flowers live a bit longer than they should. Geralt also makes a comment about how the flowers braided into his hair never wilt and lambert tries to tease Geralt about letting Jaskier braid them into his hair and he shoots back with something like, “shut up, you would let him braid them into your hair too!”

Thank you for any help!

@the-nettle-knight Saved my sanity! Thank you.

Fic found! If I Must Starve- Igneum807. A great sweet read!

[awitcheress]

So I've been watching way too many cooking shows on Facebook and Instagram lately..

Geraskier modern AU - non magical. Part 1.

Geralt is homeless and has been for most of his life. Jaskier is not. In fact, his family is filthy rich. But they don't approve of what he wants in life which is to be a Michelin star gourmet chef. He's been cooking his entire life because when he was a kid, his parents pretty much made sure he studied, but apart from that they didn't care much. (Very original premise, I know... Lol.)

But the one person who did care for him was the chef of the household. An elderly man who lost his son and wife, when the son was only a small child, so Jaskier and the chef find each other immediately and form a strong bond. Even as a very young boy, Jaskier shows much talent in cooking.

Then, when Jaskier turns eighteen, Chef dies. Jaskier is devastated by his loss and he equates everything good and loving with food. So, he wants to go to culinary school to continue learning to become as skilled at cooking as Chef.

When his parents refuse to allow him this (Surprise!), Jaskier runs away. Unfortunately, he has no way to survive and ends up homeless and alone. For long, miserable weeks, he starves and suffers cold weather, nowhere to feel safe, no one to trust.

Sometimes he even considers returning to Lettenhove...

One day, late at night, he is cornered by a big, muscular man, who beats him up and tries to rape him. It's too dark for Jaskier to see what the man looks like. There have been instances of rape/murders all over Novigrad. Jaskier is convinced he is going to die, when two other men appear and chase Jaskier's attackers away.

Jaskier is profoundly grateful to these two men who introduce themselves as Geralt and Eskel. Well, Eskel introduces them. Geralt only mumbles... (naturally)

Eskel tells Geralt to accompany Jaskier to the city watchmen. He does, but it's useless. Homeless people being raped and murdered? Just as well. It'll clean up the city streets is their attitude.

Geralt doesn't seem surprised. Regardless, Upon leaving, Jaskier chatters away with Geralt. He relies his life's story in two minutes flat 😂 as Geralt "hms" and grunts in his own inimitable way. Jaskier is not deterred. He's in love.

This gruff, tall and broad shouldered man is Jaskier's knight in...tattered old black clothing. His hair is long and the color of the palest cream, and he is absolutely breathtaking. Geralt has a voice that rumbles deep in his chest when he chooses to say something. His legs are long and powerful, his eyes like liquid honey... Geralt's arms are sinewy and strong. Oh dear, Jaskier has to stop himself from melting like ice cream left out in the sun...

Geralt helps introduce Jaskier to the people at the homeless shelter, and he's offered a bed there. Geralt leaves and, again, Jaskier is alone. The shelter is nothing like what he's used to from home, but it's eons better than the last few weeks on the street. He has a roof over his head, even if he has to share living space with others.

Thus, the loneliness is gone quite rapidly. Jaskier meets several people there, among them, Vesemir, who runs the soup kitchen. When he finds out that Jaskier likes to cook, Vesemir invites him to help.

Soon his life is changed into something so different, he feels his head spinning, and Jaskier's days are a million times better. He has access to showers, a bathroom, clean water, he's gets to eat at least once a day. And, cooking, something he loves to do so much, is actually helping others. The love is back in his life.

And then, of course, there's Geralt. Speaking to him, and listening to others, Jaskier learns that Geralt, despite his gruff nature, is a good man who patrols the streets with his brothers, Eskel and Lambert. They're trying to help keep the homeless safe, but there are so many of them...

Several young, homeless, slender and pretty men, like Jaskier, are raped and murdered. Jaskier's description of the man who attacked him is shaky at best... "Big and strong" fits even Geralt and his brothers. The only one who wasn't there is Lambert, who is a bit of a prick.

Geralt and Jaskier over time becomes friends if a sort but Geralt is not responding to Jaskier's attempts at flirting.

A year goes by, and one day, Geralt finds Jaskier in the kitchen with big news....

[winters-mistress]

the best kind of uncle is the one you'd least expect

"How you doing, kid?" Lambert asks, as he plops his arse down next to Ciri. She looks at him, the red headed witcher taking her attention away from the near empty waterskin, and into his murky brown eyes. Unusual, as Geralt had beautiful gold ones, Coën has a very unusual combination of blue and brown in the same eye, while Vesemir resembled the only twice grassed witcher in existence more than he did Eskel or Marek or Everard or Gwain. In a keep of glowing eyes, a relativley normal colour is unexpected.

"Alright." Ciri shrugs, "Geralt rip you a new arsehole for hitting me with the sack of rocks earlier?" She grins as he scoffs, pushing messy red curls from his face, his thick fingers getting caught in the rediculous tangles. No witcher would be seen dead with a comb in their hand, it would seem.

"Bitched on and on for almost an hour. About how I should 'take into accountability how fragile humans are' and 'how you won't be able to learn anything if I give you a broken shoulder'," he mocks, his voice a pitiful imitation of the white wolf's growling nature. "Crock've bullshit, if you ask me. Can't teach you anything with kiddy gloves and gentle taps. Only way you're gonna learn is if we push your arse, but your daddy says no." He scoffs. "I'm gonna put your arse on the pendulum every time he skives off to hunt or if Ves gets him patching up walls, you know that, girl? Nobody's gonna go easy on you now, you know that? A kikimora won't strike slower just 'cause you're not a mutant, a soldier won't give you a second to catch your breath. Your dad won't, so I've gotta take it upon myself to teach you all the dirty, scrappy tricks the white wolf would never lower himself to do. White Knight, he is." Lambert smirks, bumping his shoulder against Ciri's, and she chuckles at him.

"I'm honoured." She grins. "How 'bout you show me a few more sword ticks before you loose a finger?"

Lambert smirks. "Love to see him try, kid."

[geekwarriorgoddess]

I'm looking for a witcher fic, Help!

I'm looking for this fic That I know I've read somewhat recently, and I'll break it down below, but I wanted to share some screenshots as well.

First, when I search what I'm looking for I get a snippet of the synopsis right there. I'm nearly 100% certain that that is the fic I'm looking for.

Which then leads me to these, and the fic is not there. There are nine fics under the monarch Jaskier tag, and none of them are what I'm looking for.

Synopsis, as I remember it:

This is after the mountain fight, so Geralt and Jaskier are separate. I think Eskel finds him and invites him/asks him to come help. Over the past few years, Geralt accidentally conquered a town/ lordship area because the Lord was doing some bad stuff. Anyway, they had conquered this area and then left, and then Bandits came into the town and were violent, so the witchers are now trying to basically be the Lords of this area - it's not going great. So they invite Jaskier just to help de-stress Geralt, to be a friend, and then Jaskir ends up taking over. Eventually, he becomes lordship and then it turns out that he's out of the elf and they're doing a lot of work to help non-humans, and they're fighting with the human Lordships and kings, and eventually they crown Jaskier. Throuout this there's talk about how Geralt wants to be a knight, and then he becomes Jaskiers 1st knight.

I'm at a point where someone can find this, I will pay actual cash money for it. I don't even remember if it's that fabulous a fic, it's just driving me insane that I can't find it but I know I've read it a couple times.

[starwrittenfates]

@wanderingwolfwitcher continued from X

His words seemed to calm her. So far, it seemed, he had no issue with knowing she was one of the girls cursed under a Black Sun. Syanna noted how he didn't even flinch, nor look at her with fear or distrust. And was that sympathy? She knew she shouldn't be surprised since he was a Witcher and had faced worse monsters, but yet, there was something about it that made her feel warm. It made her feel...human. And it was a difference she welcomed. "Be careful, Eskel, I may just end up falling for you." She said playfully, chuckling.

Syanna beckoned her horse to continue following once he informed her of a mountain cavern up ahead. Glancing upon it, she nodded. Sure, it wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing. "I don't mind it. I've been in far worse too, but I'd rather be here than around false knights who don't honor their code. That's another story...let me help you set up camp."

[lost-in-liquid-nights]

Roleplay Ad

Update: Due to not wanting to overwhelm myself. While also providing my current rp partners with quality and relatively consistent rp, my request for rp partners is currently closed! Still feel free to reach out if you like and I'll keep you in mind for if things open up.

Ah, hello Tumblr roleplayers, it has been a while! I am one of many who was left adrift after Omegle shut down and am on the search for rp partners.

I am looking for rp partners in a variety of fandoms, genres, ships, etc. I’ll have all of them listed in a hopefully organized manner below and will do my best to keep this list accurate. If you’re interested, feel free to shoot me a DM or interact with this post and I’ll reach out to you. But please do read through this post fully before doing so, thanks!

A Little About Myself:

-Age: 20+

-Pronouns: She/They

-Experience: I’ve been roleplaying off and on in a variety of fandoms and styles for around 10+ years

What I’m Looking For In A Roleplay Partner:

-Age: Roleplayers who are at least 20+ as well

-Style: I’m open to a variety of styles, I roleplay everything from one sentence “text message” style to multi-paragraph advanced lit. Though my preferences tend to lean towards lit/advanced lit.

-Location: I’d prefer someone who���s comfortable transitioning to Discord, once we agree on what we want to rp

-Expectations: One of the things I loved about Omegle were the casual vibes when it came to when an rp needed to end. So, while I hope for some long term rps, I’m looking for people who will be okay with rps ending when interest dissipates. Without the need for big explanations as to why. This goes both ways! I won’t expect such explanations from you either if we start any sort of storyline and you end up wanting to drop out. The way I see it, this is meant to be a fun pass time and ideally shouldn’t feel like a stressful obligation for either of us.

My Current Fandoms & Ships:

Films:

Fandom: Avengers (Films)

Ships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Tony Stark, Bruce Banner/Tony Stark

Fandom: Captain America (Films)

Ships: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes

Fandom: Guardians of the Galaxy (Films)

Ships: Peter Quill/Rocket Racoon

Fandom: Venom (Films)

Ships: Eddie Brock/Venom

Fandom: X-Men (Films)

Ships: Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr

Fandom: Star Wars (Films)

Ships: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo, Poe Dameron/Finn

Fandom: Pacific Rim

Ships: Hermann Gottlieb/Newton Geiszler

Fandom: Star Trek (Original Series, Original Films, and Modern Films)

Ships: James T. Kirk/Spock, James T. Kirk/Leonard McCoy

Fandom: It (Films, 2017) & It (Mini Series, 1990)

Ships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon/Bill Denbrough

Fandom: Spiderman (Films & Comics)

Ships: Johnny Storm/Peter Parker, Harry Osborn/Peter Parker

Fandom: Nimona (Film & Comic)

Ships: Ambrosius Goldenloin/Ballister Blackheart

Series:

Fandom: Loki (Series)

Ships: Morbius/Loki

Fandom: Moon Knight (Mini-Series)

Ships: Marc/Steven, Marc/Jake, Steven/Jake

Fandom: Daredevil (Series)

Ships: Foggy Nelson/Matt Murdock

Fandom: Infinity Train (Series)

Ships: Min-Gi Park/Ryan Akagi

Fandom: Merlin (Series)

Ships: Merlin Emrys/Arthur Pendragon 

Fandom: Stranger Things (Series)

Ships: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington, Mike Wheeler/Will Byers

Fandom: Supernatural (Series)

Ships: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte, Sam Winchester/Gabriel

Fandom: Hannibal

Ships: Hannibal Lector/Will Graham

Fandom: The Witcher (Series & Games)

Ships: Jaskier/Geralt, Eskel/Lambert, Eskel/Aiden

Games:

Fandom: Phoenix: Ace Attorney Trilogy (Games)

Ships: Phoenix Wright/Miles Edgworth

Frandom: Disco Elysium (Game) 

Ships: Kim Kitsuragi/Harry Du Bois,  Jean Vicquemare/Harry Du Bois

Fandom: Modern Warfare (Games)

Ships: Simon Riley/Johnny “Soap” McTavish

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Game)

Ships: Connor/Hank Anderson, RK900/Gavin Reed

Fandom: Dragon Age

Ships: Anders/Hawke, Fenris/Hawke

Podcasts:

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Ships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims/Timothy Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Timothy Stoker, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley

Fandom: Malevolent (Podcast)

Ships: John/Arthur Lester

[justhereforeskel]

I absolutely adore your Pride!Eskels. May I ask you to consider, Eskel with the mlm flag?

Hello there!

I'm so glad you're loving Pride Knight Eskel and I would love to add the MLM flag!

Keep an eye out for another batch today 💜🐺🌈

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 5

Chapter 4

-----------flashback: King's Landing, Day of the Tourney-------

It was day of the tourney. Nobles and knights had come in from all over the realm to watch or participate in the spectacle. And based on what you heard, the timing couldn't have been more perfect as Queen Aemma had just gone into labor. 

Rhaenyra had asked you to accompany her by her side when the tourney started. You had noticed the princess had been a little on edge, which made sense given the state her mother was in right now. Hopefully this day long event would distract and, gods be willing, her mother would come out of her labors with little to no complications for both her and the newborn child regardless of the sex.

Before joining the princess at her spectators' box with her father, friend, and others from the family and small council, you found yourself at Daemon's tent, hoping to get a sneak peak of the prince before he took part in today's festivities.

"Ooh, look at you," you say as you walk into Daemon's tent. The prince in question just had his armor in place, which included his dragonesque helmet

Daemon heard your voice and turned to face you; he smirked a bit, feeling confident from the look of admiration at your face, "do you like what you see?"

"Oh, I sure do," you nod, approaching him and placing a hand on his shoulder and another on his chest, "I've always had a...certain weakness for men in armor.

"Well then," Daemon leans in, deciding to flirt back, "I may not be able to request your favor during the tourney, Little Lark, but perhaps you may grace me now with a kiss as a gesture of good luck...maybe a little something more to make up for denying me last night after I was so generous with you."

You smirk back and lean in, like you were going to give him a kiss, but instead you stop and whisper, "it was your choice to use your tongue on me, Prince, I never asked you to." Daemon groaned as you pulled away, you unable to hide your smirk at the power you currently had over this man, "besides," you continue, "can't have you distracted before the start of the festivities." "I said I was sorry," Daemon pouts like a child. "You actually didn't," you say, placing a hand on his cheek, "but when you win, I'll give you all the kisses you want. ANYwhere you want. It'll be worth it."

Daemon made a small smile, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, "I shall do my best then to earn those kisses." "Good luck, Prince," you laugh a bit and exit the tent to join Rhaenyra at her box.

------present day: Kaer Morhen-----------

You walk into the dinning hall with Ciri, seeing Geralt still there at the table with Lambert, Eskel, and Coen.

To your surprise, you notice Lambert holding Aemma in his arms.

"She really grows on you, doesn't she?" Eskel says, leaning in to make faces at the baby. "Yeah, when she's not screaming for ma in the middle of the night that is," Coen mutters, taking a bite of some bread, "but she is adorable. If only we knew who the father was."

"Well, we can rule out Geralt," Lambert jokes, "given that being a witcher had made him seedless."

"Very funny," Geralt deadpans, sipping from his mug.

"Seriously though," Eskel states, looking into the baby's face, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone with this type of blonde hair, it's almost silver." "And violet eyes," Coen adds, "unusual, unless the father was part elf."

"You people are really that eager to know who the father is?" you interrupt the conversation, getting the wolves' attention.

"Oh uh, good morning, (y/n)," Lambert greets. "Don't you lot have super senses or something?" you ask, taking a seat at the table, "I thought you would've heard Ciri and I walking from across the hall."

The witchers exchanged looks. "We got distracted," Coen provides for an excuse, "you daughter was distracting us."

"Really?" you snort, "far as I can see, she's been quiet this whole time."

"Uh, Lambert, I can see you and Aemma are having a special bonding moment, but I'd like to spend some time with her now," you reach out and the witcher gives you to her, seemingly reluctantly, "Huh, I never would've expected this from you." "To be fair, none of would expected this," Eskel smirks. "Why is this so surprising?" Lambert asks in disbelief. "I may admittedly be a little rough around the edges but I'm not a fucking monster."

"Hey, watch you language," you scold, giving Aemma a kiss on the cheek.

"Why is your face flushed?" Geralt asked Ciri as she took a seat next to him. Ciri straighten up a bit thinking about an answer to give him, "I uh, I was warming up in my room before we start training." "Oh she was warming up alright," you say with a smug look. Geralt frowned at you and her, not sure what that meant.

"Uh, where's Tris?" Ciri looks around. "We were running low on herbs in the alchemy lab," Geralt tells her, "She went with Vesemir to go gather some more."

"Knowing Vesemir, that'll be an all day task," Lambert snorts, "they have to be the right height, growth, and some other shit like that." 

"Lambert," you scold in a firm tone, "Not in front of Aemma." "How is that swearing?" Lambert exasperates, "I heard you say that over and over again last night!"

"Huh?" "What was that?" you and Geralt perk up.

Eskel, Coen, and Lambert exchange looks, "these walls are kind of thin," Eskel points out.

"Gross," Ciri mutters, taking a bite of food.

You felt your face heat up realizing what that meant. "Uh, Ciri" you ask hesitantly, "did you...?" "Nope," Ciri says quickly getting up, "I thankfully don't have witcher senses." Geralt had a look of confusion on his face. You lean in to ask him, "Geralt, did she ever get some kind of talk from her grandparents before...?" "I did, I don't need to have it again!" Ciri calls out, practically running out of the hall at this point.

The other witchers couldn't help but chuckle at this awkward situation.

Thankfully Aemma started fussing to be fed again, "I better go feed Aemma now," you say, quickly getting up.

"What, you can stay and whip em out for-" Lambert calls out, only to get nudged in the ribs by Geralt and earning a stern look from the white haired witcher.

----------------flashback: Red Keep Post tourney------------

It was late in the night when you roamed the halls, intent on getting some sleep.

It had been a long day.

The tourney, the death of the Queen and her newborn son, the funeral that followed after, it was all a lot to process right now.

You weren't close with the king or queen, but Rhaenyra was clearly grieving from the loss of her mother and newborn brother. When you were called to entertain her, she had you stop in the middle of your first song, which was a mourning song in elven which seemed appropriate for the occasion. With tears in her eyes, the princess had you dismissed early. You couldn't blame her, she needed some time alone to process her grief.

You had thinking about how the queen had died, having heard what the maesters did, cutting the poor woman open in order to save the babe, all without sedatives or herbs to numb the pain. You could only imagine how horrible the procedure it must've been for the poor queen, and how painful her death must've been; if this had been in any of the courts in the Continent, at least a mage would've been there to help ease the pains of labor and have spells on hand to turn the babe or sedate the queen if it came to that.

If you ever found yourself with child, you would pray you would be on the Continent when the time came to give birth.

You also thought about the king, and how he must've felt being in this position. You knew Viserys loved his wife, and to be put in this situation to choose to save his son or risk losing both, and only for both to be lost anyway...

You looked to see the door to Daemon's chambers was slightly cracked open. You didn't know if the man was in there right now, but you had no interest in knowing, especially after what you heard what he said earlier among his men.

Right when you passed though you heard his voice, "where do you think you're going at this hour, Little Lark?"

That moment, the prince came out and approached you. 

Before this, you were having a great time watching this man compete.

Daemon may had asked for Lady Alicent's favor at the tourney earlier today, but you knew his gazed was fixed on you when you stood by Rhaenyra's side.

You were about to turn, but Daemon was quick and pulled you back, "you finished earlier then usual this evening," the prince states. "Let me go," you struggle. "Why would I do that?" Daemon asks with a smirk, "have you forgotten so quickly what you promised me?" "You didn't win," you point out, "I'm not obligated to give you anything." 

Daemon grabbed your chin so you can face him. "Why put yourself through this hell you created?" he questions, "you want me, I know this."

"Why would I want you, especially after what you just said?" you scoff, succeeding in pulling back. "What I said?" "Your sister-in-law is dead, as is your nephew," you bring up, "your brother and niece are grieving from the loss, but instead of grieving with them you run off to the Silk Street and drink and celebrate your status as Heir. From what I heard, you referred to the dead babe as 'Heir for a Day'." "He was," Daemon points out, "even less then that as he only lived for a few hours."

"You truly have no shame," you say in disgust, "all you care about is yourself. You have got to be the most selfish, arrogant, insufferable person I've ever had the misfortune to come across." "Yet, you've never stopped me or pushed me away before, Little Lark," Daemon points out. "Don't call me that!" you exclaim, "I hate it when you call me that! I'm not your pet, I'm a person. And you're not a dragon. You...you..." "I'm what?" Daemon asks, a dark look in his face.

"You're a snake," you spat out, "A spineless, limbless snake." "I'd watch your tongue," Daemon warns, "this is a battle you can't win." "Ha, don't make me laugh," you joylessly laugh, "You come at me like you did Ser Criston, I'm sure I'd be the victor. Especially if you beat your chest and shout to the crowd rather then wait for me to yield like some brainless rock troll!"

Daemon grabbed your hair and pushed you against the wall. You grab onto the hand that was holding your hair and try to yank him off, but he takes his other hand to pin your hand to the wall.

You struggled when to break free while Daemon merely stared at you darkly. You stop when you realized how close his face was to yours.

Next thing you his lips were on yours.

You feel a hand going under your skirts, but this time you slap him away.

"I mean it, Daemon!" you say with a stern tone, "I don't want anything to do with you right now. I would've made an exception after the tourney, but after that display of disregard for the life of your family, I had second thoughts."

"If I wanted lectures about my conduct, I would've gone to my brother," Daemon mutters, making you roll your eyes and turn away, "We all mourn in different ways," he continues, leaning into you, sighing a bit, "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, (y/n)." "Don't tell me, tell your niece and brother, they're the ones who are hurting right now," you say. "I know. And they're not the only ones right now," Daemon says, voice muffled into your neck, "I kept my word not to stick my prick in other women as promised. Please allow me to keep grieving my way while also upholding my promise. I wish to hear your sweet voice again...please, (y/n)."  

You sigh and turn around, ready to scold him again. But the moment you saw Daemon's face, you could see the tired look in his eyes, like he was bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. You've seen that look before, in the face of another man you once cared for.

The Queen was Daemon's family too, and he had suffered a loss.

You sigh, hands moving to card through his long, soft, hair as you press your lips to his.

He took you to his room and you allowed him to do what he needed, what he wanted, if only to make him forget for a while.

He was fast and rough at first, but as soon as he came inside you, his movements became slower.

When the both of you were spent, you rested your head on Daemon's chest as he pulled you in and gave you a kiss on the head.

"Sing to me, Little Lark," you hear him whisper.

You did as he request, singing the same elven song you sang to the princess earlier today.

Chapter 6

Masterlist

[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.

[inexplicifics]

My terrible, terrible shipper heart is torn in two, half of it shipping Cahir and Morvran (the faithful knight and right hand trope, LOOK, how could I not ?) and the rest shipping Cahir with Eryk&his pack (they called him "OURS" *flails*). The reason part of my brain says "people can be good, true friends without that" and I agree and I'm fine with platonic everything, but the heart ships it. Hard. x)

*delighted giggling*

I am overjoyed to have caused this dilemma.

Honestly I think Cahir and Morvran probably will remain platonic allies - although at some point Morvran is going to remember he said it would be nice to have a second as loyal as Eskel is to the Wolf, and have some Regrets about the implications - but I myself do kinda ship Cahir with Eryk and Michel and Nolyn.

It may or may not ever happen, but the three of them would probably be delighted to tumble Cahir into a bed. Or other convenient flat surface. Young Witchers aren't good at chaste. Cahir, regrettably, is good at self-denial.

[just-a-pollicle]

5 and 21 for the fandom asks? ❤️

thanks for the ask <33333333333

5: Favorite platonic pairing?

i can and will make anything platonic just watch

idk if i have a fav pairing tho cause i lean more towards big found family vibes most of the time

i really love Witchers, specifically the wolves Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert being a family

ooo also the Bremin four from Nowhere Boys and the knights from Merlin

21: Favorite fic trope?

according to my ao3 bookmarks its fluff lol

but i love some good whump and outsider pov