#geralt of rvia

[eggcompany]

Julian, On My Knees Part1

Young, broke, omega Julian Pankratz, Jaskier, finds a place to live. Sharing a nice little flat in the good part of town with a fit older alpha who's daughter just moved out. The room is perfect, his own bathroom, and his flatmate is probably the most gentle yet stern, buff and beautiful, and sweetest smelling alpha he's ever encountered. It's just perfect

At least he thought so. Stupid thin walls, stupid heat brain.

“Hi! You must be Mister Rivia! I’m Julian Alfred but everyone calls me Jaskier. It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance.” The young man said quickly, in a chirpy way as his hand stuck out as soon as the front door swung open. His eyes squinted with how widely he smiled, the picture of happiness and joy. 

Geralt shook his hand, taking in the chipper man. 

He was nearly as tall as the older alpha, which was surprising but welcomed. He’d be able to reach all the shelves, Geralt thought as he took stock. The boy had messy brown hair and a round baby face. Soft pink cheeks, sparkling blue eyes, smooth summer sun tinted skin, clean and nice. So much more beautiful than his profile picture. 

Geralt nodded, turning to let the omega into the apartment, waving him in with a hand. 

“Hmm, this is the flat. Bathroom’s over there. I have my own so that’s yours. That’s my room, you can knock if you need anything, I work from home mostly. There’s a mini fridge in your room, it’s older but if you want it out, I can remove it. The living room, the kitchen, I prep my food so please don’t mess with my containers. I split it down the middle with electric tape to make it easier but it’s not a strict line.” Geralt explained as he walked the other man around the house, pointing at doors. He couldn’t help but glance at the wide smile on the omega’s face. 

He’d explained the apartment over text when the boy said he was interested. It didn’t take Geralt long to take the ad down and decide Julian Pankratz was the only applicant. He was young, only 22 years old, worked part time at a coffee shop and part time riding his bike around delivering food. He was an aspiring musician, liked staying in and watching movies, didn’t have many friends in the city, and most importantly, he was an unwed, unmated Omega. Someone who wouldn’t be bringing another alpha into the house at all hours of the night stinking up Geralt’s space. 

Geralt knew another alpha in the house would only cause trouble. Betas didn’t like all the rules about scenting in Geralt’s building, and most of the Omegas interested so far were 18 year olds who wanted someone to look after them once they left their parents house. 

Julian, Jaskier, was different. He’d said he wanted some freedom and space, just wanting one person to live with so he didn’t get lonely but would let him be his own person. Someone to have his back and talk to but wouldn’t smother him or try to parent him. Seemed like a good fit. 

Geralt smiled a bit, amused, when Jaskier’s eyes widened and explored the kitchen, opening the fridge and cabinets. He almost forgot what it was like to be around someone with enthusiasm about everyday things, a youthful bounce in their step. 

Jaskier couldn’t hold in his excitement. The space was big and open, cool grey flooring with a big rug in the living room and well loved black leather couch and matching recliner, the tv was huge, the kitchen was huge, the cabinets were spacious, the fridge was big and had a nice freezer, and it smelled amazing, like warmth and clean laundry and a little like leather shoes. It was so much bigger than what Jaskier was hoping for, and so much bigger than what it should be for the price they had agreed to. 

“Wow this is nice! I’m so excited! The last flat I was in had two bedrooms and I lived with seven people. I’ll make sure to pay rent on time and keep my space clean, sir. But um… can I ask you something about the room?” Jaskier asked as they made their way to the slightly ajar door. He stopped short of it, not reaching for the doorknob but standing patiently. 

Geralt waited a minute for the boy to continue but Jaskier was waiting for the Alpha’s permission. Geralt liked that, it was respectful and pet something ingrained in his mind. 

“Yes?” Geralt asked as he stood beside the door he’d freshly painted, a nice light nearly white. He watched the omega look down at the floor, cheeks turning a cherry color. They had discussed house rules, rules for the complex, rent payments, but not quite the details of the actual. Apart from the contents and size. 

“I'm an omega. I… have quite um veracious heats. Are the walls…?” Jaskier said in a timid way, embarrassment burning inside of him. He’d only told Mister Rivia that he was an omega, he’d felt it was inappropriate to talk about his heats and such over text. He wanted to make a good impression on the alpha, didn’t want him to think he was some floozy puppy looking for a mate and a free bed. He was a grown man, he wanted the alpha to see that. Even if he still had to ask about the ventilation and soundproofing. 

Geralt understood immediately though, having had the room remodeled after Cirilla had presented. He wasn’t shy about omegan issues, he had an omegan daughter, and had dealt with her issues. Not much scared him anymore. Nothing is more exhausting than a thirteen year old omega who wasn’t scared to leave the house in her pajamas, barefoot, to walk two miles to McDonalds if you didn’t wake up fast enough. 

Geralt wasn’t a blushing twenty year old alpha anymore, after all. He could handle having a screaming banshee in the house for a few days a month. 

“Yes, soundproof and insulated. You have your own thermostat, the door has a seal around it, and there are extra ventilation vents that lead out and not to the rest of the apartment or building. I had it specially remodeled to be… as comfortable as possible for an omega.” Geralt explained and pushed the door open, welcoming Jaskier inside. He stood by the door, wanting to keep the separation of Omegan Space and General Space very stark. 

Jaskier walked in, eyes looking at the ten foot ceiling, the calm blue walls, the plush grey carpet, and the still plastic wrapped mattress Mister Rivia said would be provided sitting on a black metal bed frame that had a spiral patterned head and footboard. It was bare but somehow he could already picture where he’d put his things, hang his posters and pictures. 

He looked at the closet with its louvered doors and the big window overlooking the park that was spread out next to the building. He could open it and get good fresh air or the warm sun, and hear the rain at night. 

“Wow… This is amazing, really. So much space and such soft carpeting… so plush. I'm really really happy. Thank you Mr. Rivia! I’ll go get the rest of my stuff, just a couple bags and my instruments and my ikea shelves.” Jaskier thanked graciously, and happily, nearly skipped, to the front door. The alpha was right behind him, grabbing some keys from the rings by the door. 

“I’ll help you. I have your copy of the key in my truck anyway.” Geralt said and couldn’t help the small smile that smirked on his lips at the omega’s genuine response. 

“Oh, thank you, dear.” Jaskier said as he slipped his shoes back on and opened the front door. He couldn’t help but feel giddy. He’d always dreamed of a place like this. So what if he had a smoking hot roommate who smelled so nice, it was only a bonus. He couldn’t wait to get the plastic off that bed and sleep alone for the first time in… since he moved out of his parent’s house. 

It was like heaven already. 

~~~~~

Geralt was surprised about how much he enjoyed another man’s presence in his home. He liked the sound of Jaskier cooking in the kitchen, he liked that the omega would leave his bathroom door open after he got a shower and his scented steam would waft out, all honey sweet and warm, he liked that Jaskier would come quietly sit down and watch TV with him if he heard a show come on. 

He liked when Jaskier sat on the kitchen counters under the bright white lights to tweak and fix his old second hand instruments. He liked that Jaskier would talk and talk, about his job, customers, his music, anything in the world and not get offended when Geralt didn’t answer. The alpha found it soothing to have the chatter while eating dinner or breakfast. He liked that Jaskier hummed as he did laundry or washed dishes or swept, tunes that he’d hear on a guitar or keyboard after a few weeks. Geralt felt less lonely, like the hollow feeling he felt after Cirilla moved out was being filled, not in the same way his daughter’s presence did, no not at all, it was an all new feeling. It was nice.

Jaskier loved living in the apartment. He could open up his window and smoke when he got itchy for a cigarette, he could work late into the night and not worry about making too much noise, he could masturbate and not worry about the smell or his sounds, and Mister Rivia let him watch TV with him. 

He loved that. He loved sitting by the older alpha, eating dinner with him, greeting him in the morning. He loved that Mister Rivia would ask him if he had a good day at work or if he was cold or if he got wet by the rain and then tell him to get a warm shower and put on some dry clothes before dinner. He liked that when he forgot his work apron and his name tag and his jacket, Mister Rivia caught him in the lobby of the building, all three in his hand and a gentle finger wag. 

He loved being looked after. It wasn’t overbearing, it was sweet. 

They were happy together, Geralt made sure Jaskier knew when to be out of the apartment when his daughter or ex-wife was visiting, sending Jaskier off with a few dollars to get coffee or a snack. Jaskier gave Geralt ample warning when he was going into heat, making sure the alpha was okay with him to heat in the apartment before locking himself away in his room for a few days. 

There were a few hiccups. Geralt had a yelling match in his office which made Jaskier cry and hide away at his friend’s house till Geralt called him, and swore it wouldn’t happen again. Jaskier came home drunk, very drunk, and fell asleep half hung over his toilet, naked from the waist up, shoes left in the middle of the floor, front door left unlocked. Geralt had given him a strong talking to. 

‘That is not safe Julian. If you ever get that drunk, where you can’t keep yourself on your own feet, you call me. At least then I can lock our front door.’ Jaskier had sniffled and nodded, making sure he had Geralt on speed dial. 

And the one time they actually argued. Four months in and they had a fight. Jaskier wanted to hang up a new poster, a big framed thing. But he didn’t ask where the step ladder was and thought it was too rude to stand on a dining room chair. So he stood on his computer chair. And left his bedroom door open. 

Geralt had come home from a meeting at the office, tired and uncomfortable in his tailored suit. He’d barely broken the entryway when he heard Jaskier scream out in fear. He found Jaskier crying, hand over his bloody knee. He was first concerned and scared but once he saw it was just carpet burn, and noticed the computer chair was tipped and the half hung poster, he was angry. He barely kept his voice from rising as Jaskier cried, yelling back.

 ‘I’m a grown man, I can do it by myself!’ Jaskier had shouted, shoving away Geralt's concerned hands. 

‘Obviously, if you used the right things. You should never stand on a swivel chair, Julian, You can be as grown as you want as long as you use your head! Don’t be stupid Julian. Think.’ Geralt had reprimanded, leaving a hand to help Jaskier to his feet. Jaskier had pouted and stomped to the bathroom, slamming the door. Geralt had huffed and slammed his own door. 

Jaskier apologized and looked like a dog, tail tucked between his legs. 

‘I’m sorry. Just got scared.’ 

‘I forgive you. You know where the step ladder is, next time, use it. Please’ 

And all was set back to normal. 

Month after month, five had passed, their few disagreements passed easily, and soon Jaskier had been there for Christmas. 

They had exchanged small gifts. Jaskier got Geralt a pair of new blue slippers because ‘Geralt yours are ugly and old, look these have really good insoles!’, and Geralt got Jaskier a nesting bundle of music print blankets and pillows.

 Jaskier had cried and told Geralt that it wasn’t fair and that he shouldn’t have spent so much money, ‘Jaskier would it make you feel better if I said it was on sale?’ 

‘Yeah, it would.’ 

‘It was clearance, cost me barely anything.’ 

‘Okay good, lie to me if it makes me feel better.’ 

‘I will’, Geralt had rubbed the omega’s back until he stopped crying. He’d made a note to himself to always tell Jaskier his gifts were cheap, even if they were $100 nesting bundles. In Geralt’s mind it was worth it, to see Jaskier tie the bundle to feel each piece, cotton, flannel, fuzzy material that Jaskier rubbed against his lips repeatedly until he hauled it all to his room with a big smile. 

And then New Years and Jaskier sent Geralt a selfie, covered in glitter and glow sticks under a blanket of confetti and fireworks, right at 12:01. Geralt had saved the photo, he didn’t know why, but the big smile on the omega’s face and the way his cheeks were crimson red and eyes drunk dilated, it made Geralt’s heart jump. He didn’t mention it to Eskel or Lambert when they asked why he was smiling at his phone during their poker game.  

Then Valentine’s Day which was the worst because Jaskier was supposed to be in heat but he’d just started new hormonal heat aids, which supposedly were supposed to keep his cramps at bay, and they were making him crazy. He sobbed into a gallon of ice cream on the couch, covered in piles of blankets, watching some disgustingly cheesy romance movie with Brad Pitt.

Geralt was trying to finish a spreadsheet but each time he heard the omega sob, it felt like his heart was being ripped out, making him hurt. So he was out on the couch soon enough, rubbing the omega’s back as he cried and babbled about how the medicine wasn’t working and his stomach hurt and his head hurt and he felt starving and he was getting fat and a million other things. Geralt just shushed him and didn’t say anything. Eventually Jaskier calmed down and fell asleep there on the sofa, leaving his empty tub of ice cream and spoon on the side table. Geralt put pillows behind his head, wiped his sticky face and hands with a damp paper towel, and turned the tv and lights off. It made Geralt feel better, even though he kept his door open, headphones half off. Just until Jaskier dragged himself to bed. 

They liked living together, they liked having each other around. Just as roommates, as friends, as… whatever they were. They respected each other, never going into each other's bedrooms, Geralt never going into the omega’s nest and Jaskier never stepping foot in the alpha’s den. They didn’t talk about Yennefer or Jaskier’s heats. 

They pretended to not hear each other’s personal dramatics. Jaskier pretending to never hear Geralt’s phone calls with Yennefer or the late night binges on the candy he had stashed above the fridge. And Geralt never hearing the noises that came from Jaskier’s bathroom at 3am.  

It was easy, it was a silent arrangement that worked. 

Until it changed.

[mynonsenseistingling]

The Witcher 3′s new Next-Gen Update. I had a save from the last time played it back in 2017. Sure looks pretty but defiantly some texture fighting on the Series X.

So I either continue from 60% through the main game and finally play the DLC , or redo Skellige...

No!

I’ve done my time I’m not going back!

I did it! Four! Fucking! Times!

I’ll read the wiki if I forgot anything.

[thewitchersdaily]

SEASON 2 EXCLUSIVE STILLS Henry Cavill as Geralt of Rivia

[mistress-light]

Eskel, Lambert, and Geralt chilling | Requested by anonymous

[thewitcherdaily]

Geralt & Roach on the path in the Netflix Character Introduction: Geralt of Rivia

[witcher-bullshit]

Or even worse: they’ll make Fringilla do the Triss move and seduce him with magic. Would be entirely in line with making her super unscrupulous

I wonder if fringilla and geralt are still gonna have their little tryst in beauclair in the show after they for some reason made her supposed to be “evil and bad and scary”. not that their relationship in the books is good or healthy necessarily... but something tells me they aren’t going to do it in the show because they haven’t sexualized her once yet lol. They’ll probably have Jaskier overshare with the Duchess and Fringilla hear it from there or something.

imagining lady of the lake in this ... whatever they’re trying to do i think is mental gymnastics that i have not done the warmup stretches for. 

but i don’t believe that they would ever allow a main character to have a black love interest because twn is far too racist and focused on exploiting black actors/characters for claims of diversity while regelating them to the sidelines as vapid tropes with little actual screentime and dialogue.

but the racism of twn aside, let’s focus on its bad writing. i don’t see how the lodge could even come together in the current state. fringilla only romanced geralt as part of a plot of the lodge of sorceresses, and the lodge has no potential to form in twn in the capacity it formed in the books, because twn has no current known plans to introduce philippa eilhart as a character. despite them casting for djikstra and other characters introduced during blood of elves such as rience, etc.vesemir, eskel, lambert, coen, etc., there has been no cast for philippa. i don’t believe they’re going to include her in twn, or if they will, she will be at a much lesser capacity than she appeared in the books. 

another reason the lodge won’t be able to form is that twn messed with the lore so much that tor lara is not a tower of uncontrollable energy, but instead now a fun lightning conducting pole used for sorceress training. the events of thanedd will not be able to pan out in the way that it does in the books, because ciri must escape through tor lara to the korath desert, becoming lost and apart from everyone she’s ever known, and leaving herself to be hunted by many different parties (the lodge, nilfgaardians, etc.). if ciri can’t escape through tor lara, what will give philippa maybe tissaia? or even yennefer? the motivation to try to find ciri? how could she disappear in another completely untrackable* manner?

* the nilfgaardian astrologist xarthisius located ciri correctly, but emhyr didn’t believe him since after stefan skellen was sent there, he found no one and nothing, so xarthisius was thrown into the dungeon... but this is irrelevant...

and finally, the lodge cannot form for the same reasons the hansa cannot form. the personalities of every single character have been warped so unsalvagebly that no one could ever cultivate the same dynamics as they do in the books. just as cahir could not have his relevation about needing to save ciri, just as jaskier wouldn’t have the backbone to defy geralt’s complaining to leave him alone, just as geralt isn’t worth following - sabrina glessvig is ... not anything like herself. triss merigold is... not anything like herself. fringilla vigo, as you duly pointed out, is ... not anything like herself. 

i also doubt jaskier would even date the duchess in twn since they removed any and all of his ... proliferous ... lifestyle... and there would be no reason for him to be almost executed in the end if he’s not allowed to be a cheating scoundrel

[katthekitkatlord]

Picky witchers

Just a fun little short. The first time Angel ever runs across/meets Geralt and Jaskier. 

Word count: 697

Characters: Geralt, Jaskier, Angel (my oc)

“Toss a coin to your witcher”, Angel mumbles while he kicks a rock. It has been a week since he first heard the blasted song and begrudgingly it has gotten stuck in his head. Resentful opinions aside, the song was catchy and this ‘Jaskier’ really knew what he was doing when he wrote it.

Angel walks down a narrow logging trail, horse trailing close behind him. The summer young and gradually climbing to the height of its blistering heat. The witcher knew better than to try and hunt or travel long distances during midday. Instead of subjecting himself and his horse to this torture, he seeks out a quiet place to relax in the shade.

The distance sound of water passing over rock’s calls Angel forth. He nearly runs to it the closer he gets. But the closer he gets he realizes that someone or someone’s have already beaten him to it. Disappointed, Angel still headed towards the sound of a stream. Chances are the people were doing the same thing as him, escaping the heat, and would not make to much of a fuss if he joined them.

“Why does it have to be so hot?” Angel hears a man’s voice complain.

“You could have stayed at”, a second voice picks up but stops mid-sentence. “Someone is coming.” The voice whispers.

‘Great.’ Angel thinks to himself, rolling his eyes and readying himself for a fight.

Not delaying, Angel steps into the small clearing and his eyes narrow on the two figures. One large and clearly in charge whereas the other huddled behind him like a puppy. It was then Angel put two and two together after getting a good look at the pair.

White hair, two swords, yellow eyes, the scent of potions and death. “Geralt of rvia?” The name falls freely as a question.

“Yes.” The white wolf growls and relaxes only the tiniest bit.

Angel sighs and relaxes, giving the pair a smile and showing his hands. “Ah, what a coincidence. I mean no harm.”

Angel is happy to see Geralt relax and takes this as permission to entire the clearing, leading his horse along to the water.

“Another witcher!” The other man exclaims and moves out from behind Geralt to step closer to Angel. He’s stopped before he can a step, Geralt grabbing him by the back of his tunic.

“Give the man his space.” Geralt growls and there is a sense of warning under his breath.

“Listen to the white haired one.” Angel clicks his tongue and crouches down by the running water to fill his water pouch. “Not all witchers are your friend. Some would be very happy to steal your expensive clothes.” Angel could not help but huff at the sight of the other. He looked like a peacock. Flashy and bold. “But fear not, I mean no harm. I seek relief from the sun.”

“Same as us, though we plan to stay the night here. Apparently, there’s a contract out on some beast.”

“Jaskier!”

Angel’s head snaps up and he cuts his yellow eyes at the man. “Jaskier? The jaskier?” The corner of his mouth twitches. “Everywhere I go, I hear that damned song of yours.”

Jaskier flinches and slinks back to stand partly behind Geralt. “Sorry?” His voice meek.

Angel sighs, “No, I mean no ill will. I have just only heard it so many times that it seems the song has permanently stuck in my head. As songs go, you did a damn good job.”

“You’re not the one who travels with him. I swear I’ve become numb to the song.” Geralt relaxes to Angels company and goes back to tending to his herbs from the smell of things.

“Do all witchers detests music?” Jaskier motions to the two witchers.

“Actually no. I enjoy music. I even know how to play a few instruments and sing a couple notes. I’m just picky.”

Geralt makes a face like he is weighing Angels words and nods. “I can say most witchers are picky when it comes to music.”

Jaskier mutters a string of curses under his breath before flopping back down in his previous spot. Clearly resigned to defeat.

[mordoriscalling]

Stay or Sail Away (1/6)

Here comes part one the modern AU fake dating Geraskier fic that I talked about in this post. I’d like to post each part daily. Tagging @geraskier-trashh as requested! :D

***

It’s not that Jaskier has any problem finding someone, thank you very much. It’s just that he’s busy. Busy with concerts and composing, meeting fans at various events, travelling, internet dramas involving Valdo (it’s always fucking Valdo). There’s no time for a relationship, only for occasional one night stands that sometimes that leave him heartbroken because he actually manages to fall in love with someone in the span of a few hours. It’s fine, though. Heartbreak inspires him like little else.

Jaskier's never complained about lack of bed partners, when he seeks them out. He’s charming, after all. Still, the moment he hears “commitment”, he flees. It’s just not his way. Or perhaps he’s never found anyone fascinating enough to commit to; it takes a lot to keep his attention.  He wasn’t even looking for someone like that. Not until recently.

His troubles began a week ago, during a phone call with his mum. She reminded him of his father’s 65th birthday party and asked if he would bring anyone with him. This was followed by a series of questions about his love life because, as his mum put it, “you’re 35, Julian darling, and you’re always working so hard! I worry you’ll end up alone”. In order to placate her, Jaskier might’ve lied a little tiny bit about some things. As a result, because of all the twists and turns of the conversation, he made his mother believe he had a fiancé.

A fucking fiancé.

Wanda Pankratz was ecstatic, wishing to know everything about her son’s relationship, but he dodged all the further questions by saying that she would meet his love soon enough. She left it at that but, of course, told half the family about it, if the texts and calls from his sisters and aunts were anything to go by.

Hence, The Post.

It’s a bit pathetic and desperate, Jaskier can freely admit, but he has no other choice. His personal guard Zoltan almost pissed himself laughing when Jaskier asked him to pretend to be his fiancé, and not one of his friends knows anyone who would want to do this. Not even his agent Triss could help him out.

It all drove Jaskier to log on his anonymous Facebook account (he is a pretty big name in the UK; better be safe than sorry) and post in one of the big London groups.

“I need urgent help from someone who’d be willing to act as my fiancé during a family party on February the 24th. The only thing I expect is the ability to sing praises of our love and to compliment my aunts. It’ll take around 4 hours and then we end our relationship. Age from 35 to 40. It’d be great if you knew something about the sea because I intend to introduce you as a sailor who’s never home and afterwards, you die. Can anybody help?”

Since yesterday, the post has got more than a thousand reactions (mostly the laughing one and likes) and hundreds of comments. Many people tagged their friends as a joke, which is not helpful, but Jaskier still scrolls down and down, trying not to let his hope die. Nobody seems to think his request is for real and he’s received no serious offers so far. Then, one of the newest comment threads catches his attention.

Lambert Rivia:    Geralt Rivia Destiny!

                              Geralt Rivia Fuck off

                              Yennefer Vengeberg Omg 😂 Cirilla Vengeberg-Rivia Eskel Rivia you must see this!

                              Cirilla Vengeberg-Rivia Yesssss!! This is perfect! ❤️

                              Eskel Rvia Do it Geralt

                              Geralt Rivia No.

Intrigued, Jaskier decides to check out these people’s profiles. Lambert Rivia is a handsome red-haired man who wears some kind of black military suit in his profile picture. Looking at his bio, Jaskier already knows why Lambert didn’t volunteer himself – he’s in a relationship. Eskel Rivia is blond, even more handsome than Lambert despite facial scars, and also has a photo in a black suit, together with a white cap on his head. There’s no information on Eskel’s relationship status and Jaskier is intrigued indeed. Yennefer Vengeberg is a terrifyingly beautiful woman who, judging how professional her profile picture appears, must work in some serious profession. Cirilla Vengerberg-Rivia is a lovely teenage girl with white-blond hair. Jaskier reckons she’s the daughter of Yennefer and one of the Rivia guys.

He left the poor Geralt’s profile as the last to look at, but now that Jaskier has seen the rest, he checks this one too.

His jaw fucking drops.

Geralt Rivia is a ridiculously handsome man. His face seems practically unreal because, surely, people as beautiful as Geralt don’t actually exist? The man’s long white hair (which makes no sense considering his apparent age), as well as his brown-almost-golden eyes, only add to his otherwordly, stunning appearance. Double stunning in that black military suit he’s wearing in his profile picture, just like Lambert and Eskel. The suit looks familiar and Jaskier has a nagging feeling he really should know what kind of army it is. Google helps him out and he quickly puts two to two – Geralt, Eskel and Lambert serve for the Royal Navy.

He bursts out laughing.

This is too good.

He wonders what he should to about this. Now that he knows about Geralt’s existence, he can’t really miss the chance of meeting him, however slim. His gut feeling tells him not to let the opportunity slip and well, who is Jaskier not to listen?

When he’s in the middle of debating what to write to the man, his phone pings. There’s a new messenger notification... with Geralt’s name. With a racing heart, Jaskier opens the message.

FEB THE 18TH AT 06:14 PM Hey. Everyone’s telling me to message you and won’t leave me alone. Is your request for real? Please say no

Jaskier chuckles and replies:

Hi! I’m sorry they’re bothering you and I’m also sorry to say that my request is very much for real. I’d be forever grateful if you helped me 😁

To this, Geralt responds with:

They really won’t stop until I agree They think it’s so fucking funny

Jaskier purses his lips, already suspecting this isn’t likely to work out. He'll have to face his loving mum and admit that he lied to her about fucking having a fiancé. She’s going to be so disappointed. At the very prospect, bad mood overtakes him, but he still types what he hopes to be a cheerful answer.

Damn, so sorry mate I won’t push you but, again, I’d totally owe you one if you agree  ☺️

What would I get?

Jaskier tries to reason with his hope to calm the fuck down and replies:

Money, or a favour of some sort, I have many connections Could be free tickets to my concerts  Even my company for the night 😏 Just whatever you want I really need help

Fuck

For a minute or two, the three dots next to Geralt’s photo disappear, and Jaskier’s hope plummets in a  dramatic fashion. Then, more messages from Geralt show up in the chat.

Free tickets seem fine My daughter loves going to concerts She’d like free tickets but I never heard of you

Jaskier starts begging any god out there that Cirilla is Geralt’s daughter. Teenagers make up a large part of his audience (which is great, actually; teenage kids are amazing these days). If she’s a fan, the free tickets are a major bargaining chip.

Well, Julian AP isn’t my stage name I don’t use it on fb

What is it? Your stage name

I’d rather not say here And you must promise me you won’t tell anyone about it too Well, anyone but your daughter

Ok

 Can you call me? It’s better to talk about this on the phone anyway

Fine.

Jaskier sends Geralt his number and waits for the call. In other circumstances, he’d congratulate himself on getting a man like that to call him so easily, but he’s too anxious. His hands itch for his guitar but he doesn’t get up from his bed. He begins smoothing his hair out with his palms, praying in his mind that Geralt hasn’t changed his mind.

After the agonizing wait of six minutes, there’s an incoming call. Jaskier takes a deep breath and picks up.

“Hello,” says a gravelly baritone voice so pleasant that it sends shivers down Jaskier’s spine.

“Uhm, h-hi, Geralt,” he replies a bit breathlessly, “so, my name’s Julian Alfred Pankratz but I’m known to many as Jaskier.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Jaskier?” Geralt repeats, “the one who sings Her Sweet Kiss?”

Jaskier beams, his chest swelling with pride. “The very same.”

“Fuck,” Geralt growls, “Ciri wants to blast this song whenever we drive somewhere.”

Jaskier laughs. “She would love free tickets to my concerts, wouldn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

Geralt says no more. Jaskier has to swallow down to sop his throat from constricting. “So?” he asks, “Can you do this for me?”

The silence on the other side is deafening and Jaskier doesn’t even breathe until Geralt finally speaks up. “Fine,” he grunts, his tone indicating it’s anything but fine.

Air leaves Jaskier’s lungs in a whoosh, replaced by a flood of such sheer relief that he may as well cry. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he babbles, heady with joy, “Gosh, you’re my saviour!”

“Just don’t tell anyone about this,” Geralt grumbles.

“Not a soul, Geralt, not a soul.”

“Send me the details about when and where and let’s get this over w–”

“No, wait!” Jaskier cuts in, “My family’s very perceptive, they’ll know it’s a ruse. We should plan everything carefully.”

“You’re making me regret this,” Gerlt growls.

“I’m sorry!” Jaskier hastens to say. “Just... at least tell me a bit about yourself?”

Geralt lets out an irritated sigh. “I’m forty, serve for the Royal Navy with my brothers. Eskel’s the nice one and Lambert’s the prick. My ex-wife Yennefer works for the government.” Jaskier actually shudders at this one because he already can picture it. Yennefer seems exactly powerful like that. “We have a daughter,” Geralt goes on, his tone softening, “Ciri. She’s fourteen. We live in London but I’m away often.”

“Oh, lovely,” Jaskier says with a wide smile because, really, this man’s love for his daughter is so clear and endearing, “this is something we can start with.”

“Just make everything up about our relationship and send it to me. I’ll play along.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, still amazed at his luck. Jaskier is almost high on the success of his ingenious scheme and his obligations are therefore non-existent, so nothing stops him from teasing Geralt. “Though, to be completely honest," he says cheekily, "you don’t strike me as the type to sing praises of our love and compliment my aunts.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replies. It doesn’t sound like a negation. “Yen says I’m not that bad if I try.”

The fondness with which he said Yennefer’s name is a cold bucket of water poured on his enthusiasm. “O-oh, ok,” he stutters out, thrown off-track, “So, uhm, would you be willing to try for me?”

For a moment, Geralt says nothing, then answers, “If you give Ciri an autograph.”

Jaskier laughs out loud. “Not a problem at all! Whatever she wants.” He pauses. “Whatever you want,” he adds more seriously.  

Geralt only hmms, in a way that Jaskier’s prone-to-romanticism mind would almost call warm. Silence falls between them but it doesn’t feel awkward somehow. “Have to go,” Geralt says.

“Okay,” Jaskier replies quietly, “Thank you again. I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

After Geralt hangs up, Jaskier huffs out a shaky breath. Deep down, he already knows.

This is going to mess him up.

TBC

Part 2

[drjezdzanyart]

Keeping myself sane by drawing Geralt of Rvia (again)

[acicueta]

Essi Daven - Geralt of Rvia

[melzious]

I was tagged by @primary-glitch for this.

Favorite game(s) from the last 5 years?

Rune Factory, Okami, Kingdom Hearts, Breath of the Wild, the Mooseman

Most Nostalgic Game(s)?

Pokemon Black and White and Final Fantasy III

Game(s) that deserves a sequel?

Give me a godsend, give me Rune Factory 5. Bring the ocmpany back from the dead.

Game(s) that deserves a remaster?

Redundant, but give me Rune Factory 3 platformed for the switch. In fact, I’ll take any game.

Favorite game series?

Rune Factory or Kingdom Hearts. Pokemon and Final Fantasy are close runners up.

Favorite genre(s)?

Role-playing Games and Role-playing with strategy and team building

Least favorite genre(s)?

First person shooters; I just can not get the controls and their pace makes my head spin.

Favorite song(s) from a game?

Pokemon Gen VI: Emotions, Undella Town; Kingdom Hearts: Ventus’s Theme.

Favorite character from a game?

Dolce

Favorite ship(s) from a game?

Kukui/Brunet

Favorite voice actor from a game?

Doug Cockle (Geralt of Rvia)

Favorite cutscene(s)?

Pokemon Black and White Cutscenes, Urbosa Cutscences

First console?

DS

Current console(s)?

Switch, Ds, ps4, computer

Console(s) you want?

I think I’m good.

Place(s) from a game that you’d like to visit?

Hau'oli Cemetery, Celestial Tower, and Traverse Town

Place from a game that you’d like to live in?

Unova and Univir Settlement

Ridiculous yous crossover that would never happen but would be super fun?

Rune Factory and the Wticher (Can you imagine Geralt farming?)

Book that would make a good game?

His Dark Materials (Being able to create your own character and your Daemon changes with your choices!)

Show/movie that would make a good game?

Studio Ghibli

Games you want to play?

Lightfall, The World Ends With You,

Have you gotten 100% completion in a game?

Pokemon Black and White, Rune Factory 3

Have you cried over a game?

Pokemon Black and White got me; Undertale did, too.

What power-up or ability would you want in real life

Double Jump please

Name your top ten favorite female characters from different fandoms, then tag ten people

*Mako Mori

*Dolce

*Olivier Armstrong

*Satsuki Kiryuin

*Medusa Gorgon

*Re-L Mayer

*Zinnia

*RItsuko Akagi

*Wendy Marvell

*Lyra Silvertongue 

I am Tagging, @riceisgood123

[eggcompany]

AND IT"S FLUFF WITH SOME HURT/COMFORT

EAT IT THOSE WHO SAID I ONLY WRITE SMUT

[geekykool]

TV Trailer: The Witcher

Netflix brings their own spin on the award winning novels and popular video games.  Henry Cavill is the main character Geralt of Rvia, The Witcher.  It comes to Netflix on December 20th, just in time for the holidays. Stay Geeky!

TV Trailer: The Witcher was originally published on GeekyKOOL.com

[eggcompany]

A Soft Kind Of Home Part 1

The first year Jaskier stayed at the keep he learned quite a bit about the Witchers of Kaer Morhen.

He learned that Eskel likes to read out loud but was taught that it’s “childish” so he offers to read books for Jaskier. Eskel likes to read by the fire and he likes to hold Jaskier in his lap. Eskel likes to listen to music and loves Jaskier singing this and that, trying to figure out new songs. Eskel is very smart and can talk and talk for ages about almost everything. He loves talking about embroidery, sewing, spinning yarn, anything that has to do with making pretty things or art. He also loves talking to the viscount about food. He tells the bard about the disgusting things he's choked down on the path and how the food at home is so much better. Jaskier tells him that when he returns next year he'll bring along spices and herbs from Oxenford and recipes from Lettenhove.

Jaskier learned that Lambert is a big softy when he gets used to you. He learned that storms scare Lambert and he had a quite soft side to him. Lambert likes to cuddle and be close to Jaskier or the other witchers when it rains or storms. Lambert loves sitting in laps and loves being held. Lambert really just craves some form of affection and love. Lambert likes chewing on stuff especially his own hands.

He learned Geralt is the... Well there isn’t quite a word he can think of for what Geralt is. Eskel comes to Geralt when he doesn’t feel well or scared. Lambert is almost always hanging on Geralt when it’s stormy outside. And Geralt takes care of them.

Jaskier learned that there’s one room in the keep that all the wolves sleep in when they get lonely and sad. Geralt usually leads the other wolves by their hands to the room when sadness hangs too heavy over them.

Jaskier learned that all the wolves liked to nuzzle and snuggle when they sleep and he always ends up in the middle of a puppy pile. He learned Geralt can talk in such a low and gentle voice that it instantly calms the other two.

Jaskier learned a lot

Next Chapter ->

[eggcompany]

I’m sorry but his dead wife/family/best friend and large voluptuous breasts have ensnared me. I am captured by his soggy depressed little demeanor and bulging muscles. His globe like rear and tear filled eyes have fused my very soul to him. This fictional man. This meow meow.

[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.