#meanwhile he's so sure jaskier will stay there with ciri while he's away that he doesn't even ask

[thesaintofnevergettingitright]

Look, do I wish season 2 included a lengthy and emotional apology scene? Yes. Obviously.

HOWEVER....

Today several things suddenly occurred to me at once, and it made me feel a little more generous towards the apology we got.

First of all, (I feel like this kinda goes without saying) but Geralt is a man of action. His move was always going to be to show Jaskier that he knew he’d fucked up, not tell him.

And for a long time I didn’t feel like he’d done much of that this season, but then I started thinking about the differences between the 2 times Yennefer broke Geralt’s heart.

Cuz like. There’s no denying that Geralt’s visibly feeling just as betrayed/angry/heart-broken in both scenes.

Jaskier is there as an innocent by-stander both times, and the first time... like, we know what happened. Jaskier actively reached out to him to try to help, and Geralt’s reaction was to lash out and make it clear that Jaskier had no value to him.

The second time, there’s a lot more happening/the world to save, etc. so the exchange between Geralt and Jaskier gets kinda lost in the chaos, but it’s just dawning on me that it’s a really significant one. Because in that moment when Geralt is feeling an incredible amount of pain and betrayal and heart-break with no one to really take it out on, it would’ve been SO easy to snap again. Or it would’ve been totally understandable if he didn’t even think about/acknowledge Jaskier right then. (Especially since, this time around, Jaskier was being dead-silent, as though he didn’t want to tempt fate into a repeat of what happened last time.)

But not only does Geralt refrain from lashing out, this time he reaches out to Jaskier for help. And not just any kind of help! Geralt fully asks him to take Ciri to Kaer Morhen!  

And the best thing is, it’s kind of a ridiculous request. 1) the dwarves are right there, and they’re way more prepared to protect someone. Also, they have the transportation. 2) Ciri is the only one who knows the way AND is going to be way more competent than Jaskier in dealing with literally any issue they might run into. This is a heavily magical child with an impressive amount of combat training.

But in the heat of the moment, Geralt’s first action was to entrust Jaskier with his kid! Immediately after one of the only people he trusts tried to hurt her! Refusing to let Ciri out of his sight would’ve been an extremely reasonable reaction, but instead he puts total faith in his best friend to watch after his daughter and keep her safe.

And like, as far as “showing Jaskier he values and trusts him and won’t mistreat him again,” ...that’s a pretty big move. It really does make me fell a lot more confident that he meant his (extremely short) apology and is working to be better.

Unsurprisingly, I’m emotional about it.

[echo-bleu]

While I’m staying away from all the speculation, all those posts and memes about Jaskier either being the only one who can see Geralt is different or the only one who can’t and keeps insisting that yes of course, that’s Geralt, are giving me ideas.

Namely: faceblind Jaskier. Bear with me. He can’t recognize any face, including his own in the mirror (when he finds a mirror, it’s not that often). That’s why he flirts with everyone, flirting is just his default mode in case it’s someone he’s met before, because at its core it’s kind of roleplaying. While people may not respond to it well, they mostly don’t bat an eye at cheesy joke-y pickup lines where Jaskier ‘pretends’ to meet them for the first time (”Do you come here often?”). Meanwhile it buys Jaskier time to figure out if he has in fact met them before.

(Demi or ace Jaskier? Who flirts for the reasons above and mostly has sex with people because he figures it’s expected of him?)

It’s also the reason he makes so many enemies. Sure, there are actual cuckooed husbands who hate him, but really it’s mostly former lovers who are horribly offended when Jaskier ‘snubs’ them at a reception because he just didn’t recognize them. Or former lovers horribly offended that he tried to flirt with them again pretending not to know them after they threw him out. There are also plenty of people who were never his lovers at all but are just offended because nobles are Like That.

(There have been some really embarrassing situations. Like the time he tried to flirt with Valdo Marx, his eternal rival, who still laughs about it every time they see each other.)

He latches onto Geralt because Geralt is recognizable. There just aren’t two white-haired wolf-eyed muscular men around. Jaskier never has to worry about seeing him and being unsure if it’s actually his friend and not some random stranger with the same haircut. Geralt also never changes his haircut or his appearance in any way, which is refreshing.

Yennefer is mostly the same, with her violet eyes, although Jaskier does have to get close enough to be sure. They have a few weird encounters where Jaskier starts to flirt with her, gets within a few feet, and immediately backtracks the hell out with a disgusted face. That’s how she figures it out, but it takes her a while. After that she takes great pleasure in teasing him about it, but only in ways that no one else will clock (hence the crows’ feet comment. Jaskier doesn’t even know himself in the mirror. He can’t tell if she’s right. He does obsess over it the whole way up the mountain, but he has other things to think about on the descent).

The witchers of Kaer Morhen, when Jaskier meets them, are so refreshing. They’re all different! Eskel is unmistakeable with his scars, and while they’re within the confines of Kaer Morhen it’s very easy to distinguish Lambert’s red hair from Coen’s shaved head and darker skin from Vesemir’s white beard. Ciri is of course the only kid, so that’s not a problem. For the first time in his life, Jaskier doesn’t feel like he’s playing catch up to a game whose rules he doesn’t know. It’s relaxing.

The witchers, on the other hand, are quite surprised about Jaskier. They’ve been told (many times, over the years) that Jaskier flirts with everyone under the sun. Now Geralt isn’t always the most reliable source, of course, and Eskel never expects anyone to be attracted to him because of his scars (which is a subject for another day), but Jaskier doesn’t even try to flirt, even just friendlily, with either Lambert or Coen. He’s not afraid of them, they would be able to smell that, he seems perfectly comfortable with them, but he doesn’t flirt. At first, they figure that it’s because his newly mended relationship with Geralt is still fragile.

One night they’re all a bit drunk and the witchers are talking about how Jaskier’s songs have helped them on the Path, how many humans are much nicer to them, and in general how hard interacting with humans is. And Jaskier is just nodding along, “Yeah, yeah, interacting with humans is so hard.”

“But you’re always going out of your way to talk to people and flirt!”

“Well yes, I like making friends, but they have so many expectations, and they get angry so easily.”

“That’s only when you flirt with the wrong people,” Geralt growls.

“But how am I supposed to know it’s the wrong people when I can’t recognize them?”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks.

“Faces are hard! I don’t know how people do it, I mean, obviously your scars are distinctive, and I’d recognize Geralt’s hair anywhere, but most humans all look the same!”

Geralt blinks very slowly as it all slots into place in his head. Jaskier’s very strange flirting methods. The way he keeps making enemies without meaning to. Hell, he’s seen Jaskier say hello again to someone they’d seen just minutes before, or completely ignore one of his bard friends at a festival until she came right up to him. “You don’t recognize people?”

Jaskier, who didn’t survive forty-three(ish) years without figuring out that this wasn’t normal, freezes and suddenly looks like a deer in the headlights. “Uh... no?”

“So if, say, Vesemir was to shave his beard, you might confuse him with Geralt?” Lambert asks.

“I’d... probably be able to tell from up close? Geralt’s taller.”

“Wow.” Lambert seems ready to tease him about it, but Eskel stops him.

“How did you never notice?” he asks Geralt.

Geralt just grunts. Jaskier answers for him. “I’m very good at making people feel like we’ve always known each other, I guess. Mostly I just buy time until I can figure out if I’ve met them before.”

The witchers have a million questions, but they never make Jaskier feel like he’s deficient somehow. Jaskier has always been ashamed of it, but to them, it’s just another quirk, like not being able to eat raw meat.

The next time they’re on the road, or at a festival together, Geralt is brooding just as much as usual, eyes darting this way and that, but before Jaskier can go and greet people (with his usual fake-it-till-you-make-it technique), Geralt stops him.

“Your friend Essi’s wearing a yellow dress with red accents,” he mutters under his breath. “Marx has a green doublet, that shade you hate. Avoid the man in the bright purple doublet and the brown pants, you slept with him last time and he threw you out. That woman at the right of the stage with the braid, she has a husband, you tried before.”

Jaskier gets so emotional that he can’t speak for a solid minute, and he ends up hugging Geralt instead. “Didn’t know you paid attention,” he says eventually.

“Just look at me if you’re not sure who someone is, I’ll tell you who to avoid,” Geralt says gruffly.

It’s not a perfect system, but Jaskier doesn’t offend a single person all day.

[seidenbros]

I'm Lost, I'm Found in You Ch. 5

Pairing: Geraskier (Geralt x Jaskier)

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier try to figure out how they can keep Ciri with them, and they get help from Lambert who's working for the police. Ciri settles in with them and gets to know Yennefer's nieces while Jaskier has a gig at his favourite pub and really hopes that Geralt will stop by to watch him sing.

Warnings: mentions of loss/death, PTSD, anxiety, hurt and fluffffffff, mentioned child abuse

Word Count: 3587

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

The post that started it all | idea collection | First picspam | playlist | Second Picspam

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IRIS

Geralt stayed with Ciri until she had fallen asleep in his bed again. Meanwhile, Jaskier had gone down into the basement to look for some stuff. He was sure that his Grandma had kept everything from his childhood, but so far, he hadn't managed to rummage through everything. It had hurt him too much to see all the things that reminded him of his Grandma, because he missed her, but the idea of preparing the guest room for Ciri had brought him down here, because he knew that there were still some toys, stuffed animals and whatnot that might catch her interest.

“There it is,” he said to himself, as he reached for a bag in one corner. The big ears of a stuffed elephant were poking out, making him smile. It almost looked like Dumbo but without a hat or anything.

“There is what?” Jaskier jumped, clutching the bag to his chest as he turned around to face Geralt. “Sorry, I didn't want to scare you.” But still, the Veteran chuckled to himself seeing Jaskier like this. It hadn't been his intention, but that deer-in-the-headlights-look Jaskier was giving up was kind of adorable.

“It's... some of my old stuff,” Jaskier said once his heart had calmed down a little. He walked over to Geralt and opened the bag, pulling the elephant out of it. “I wanted to prepare the guest room for Ciri, put some of my old toys and stuff in there so that she can choose what she wants. After everything she's been through, she needs a little comfort.”

Geralt was fucked. Absolutely fucked. He hadn't wanted to fall in love with the musician, but this right here and now, the way he wanted to take in a child he had only met today, made him realize that he wouldn't be able to keep himself from falling anymore. So he did what he'd already done before and wrapped his arms around Jaskier, pulled him against his own chest and simply held him for a moment. So much for slowing down his heartbeat, because Jaskier's heart picked up its pace again straight away.

“Thank you,” Geralt said close to Jaskier's ear, making him shiver involuntarily. Jaskier had to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Luckily, his hands were busy clutching the bag, because otherwise, he would have hugged Geralt back and he'd probably not let him go for some time. In the veteran's arms, he felt safe.

“Oh, this is nothing, really,” Jaskier eventually managed when Geralt pulled back slightly. He'd actually not wanted to let go of Jaskier already, but the singer took a step back to look down at the bag in his hands to look at all the other things in there. “It's just... I know what it's like to lose your parents and I was lucky to have my Gran.” A fond smile appeared on Jaskier's lips, showing just how much he'd loved his grandmother. “I want to make her feel welcome here, because she is. She has to see this as a safe space after everything she'd gone through.”

“And you're really okay with her staying here?” Geralt had to make sure, because he didn't want to put all of this on Jaskier. After all, they hadn't known each other that long, and Ciri wasn't Jaskier's responsibility. Geralt wasn't Ciri's family as well, at least not by blood, but her father had been a good friend, he was her Godfather, and he would do anything for that little girl, especially to keep her safe. He wouldn't go near the family she'd been staying with, because couldn't guarantee to be civil around them.

“More than okay,” Jaskier said with a smile, pulling another stuffed animal out of the bag. A small kitten that looked like Batman. “That room is empty anyway, and to be honest... she'd adorable. She'll even have company when Yen comes over with her nieces again. I want her to be safe, Geralt, and she's safest with you.”

There was nothing Geralt could or would say against this. Yes, the room was empty, and if Jaskier wanted to give it to Ciri, he'd love that. Even if it was just for some time until they figured out what would happen, if she could stay with Geralt or if they'd rip her away from him again and put her in another family. In his opinion, that was the worst thing they could do, because she didn't feel safe going to someone new, someone she didn't know, someone who'd maybe treat her the same way she'd been treated before. She'd told him all that herself right before she'd fallen asleep.

“No more thank yous,” Jaskier said before Geralt could get the words out, and they both started laughing. He'd already thanked Jaskier enough for this, while it was only natural for Jask to do this, to let Ciri stay here, because she apparently felt safe with him around.

“Alright.” Geralt agreed, before he helped Jaskier carry some of the stuff upstairs and into the empty room. A bed was already in there, so that wasn't a problem, as well as a few cupboards, shelves and a wardrobe.

“I need to make a call to get all this underway, Will you be alright here for a moment?” The look Jaskier levelled on him told Geralt everything he needed to know, so he left Jaskier alone.

He used the phone in the kitchen to talk first to Vesemir at the orphanage to talk to him about Ciri, about his chances of taking care of her with everything that had happened. After that, he called Lambert, who was working with the police and knew the right people to handle this case. The swearing on the other side of the phone was something Geralt wouldn't repeat. Lambert had quite the mouth on him, but he was a good guy who would do anything to protect little kids, especially since he'd grown up in an abusive household. Lambert assured him that he would check these people out and that he would get the right guys on this case. They talked a little more, so Geralt could tell him everything he knew.

Meanwhile, Jaskier was busy with setting up the room. He propped some of the things they'd brought upstairs around the room, but it was ultimately up to Ciri to choose whether she wanted to keep them of put some of these things out of the room again. He chose a pale rose coloured bedsheet from his Grandma to set the bed up as well.

“Wow, this looks good,” he heard Geralt from the door and turned around, a smile on his lips.

“Thanks. It's not a lot, but I think it will do for the start. She can do whatever she wants with the room then, but it's a start.” Jaskier loved children, always had. Geralt had already seen that when he'd interacted with Yennefer's nieces.

“I'm sure she'll love it.” Geralt smiled softly at Jaskier. He had such a big heart, he gave and he gave, but... judging by the songs Geralt had heard, by the melancholy in his voice... he rarely got anything in return. Maybe, this was the moment to address this, to ask him about it, about the man who'd obviously broken his heart. The man with an ugly heart. But before Geralt could even form the words, Jaskier walked towards him, towards the door to turn off the lights.

“We should probably get some sleep now as well. It's been a long day.”

And he was right. Of course, he was right, but while Geralt nodded and headed upstairs, in reality, he longed for Jaskier's company, for his voice. At least, his voice was what he got. At the usual time, quietly, but it made him smile and eventually drift off to sleep with Ciri by his side.

“They did WHAT?”

Jaskier was on the phone with Yennefer a couple of days later. They'd talked to the authorities about keeping Ciri with them, and it was okay under these circumstances. A lady from child protection services had visited them and talked to Ciri for nearly an hour, getting all the details from the little girl. After that she'd been sure that she was safe in this house with the two man who obviously loved and cared for her. Jaskier had fallen in love with that little girl the minute she'd walked into his house, so he was overjoyed that she could stay with them. For now. For the next couple of weeks, months, who knew.

“Give me the address and I'll be there in a matter of seconds to do to these fuckers what they did to that poor little girl.” Yennefer wasn't a mother, but she had all the mama-bear-instincts anyone could ever have. She was the cool aunt for her nieces, but when it came down to it, she was a protective mother, or rather behaved like one.

“It's being taken care of, Yen.” Not in the way she would probably like, and to be fair, Jaskier would like what she had in mind as well, but... in the end that wouldn't get them anywhere. Well, it would, but not where they wanted to be, because neither of them wanted to go to jail.

“Good,” Yen said with a sigh. She didn't trust most of the police, but in this case, she was sure that Geralt (and Jaskier) would move heaven and hell to get it to the right people, who would actually take care of this situation. “You know what... My nieces are spending the night here, so why don't you bring Ciri over and she can join in the fun? Get a little distraction, some greasy food and help create a blanketfort to spend the night in?”

“You sure?” Jaskier asked, looking over at Ciri, who was playing with Batman at the moment, giggling all the time. It was good to see her so relaxed, because the first couple of days had been strenuous for her. But once it had been settled that she'd be able to stay here, she'd started to let her guard down more, to get comfortable and really make that room hers.

“I can handle three rascals, so one more won't make a big difference. And I think it will be good for her. You know how welcoming the three are, so she won't have a problem fitting in.”

“You're right. Let me ask her real quick.”

Jaskier put the phone aside and walked over to Ciri.

“Hey, Princess... Would you like to spend the night with a friend of mine and her three nieces? They'll have pizza and ice cream and they'll build a blanketfort with you.” Jaskier ran his fingers through Ciri's hair, smiling down at her. She looked a little confused, as if she was looking for the right answer to give. “It's okay, if you don't want to. I don't want you to do anything you do not want to do, okay?”

“Is she nice?” Ciri asked quietly, biting her bottom lip. She valued Jaskier's opinion, trusted him and what he told her, so it was important to ask him that question.

“Oh, Yennefer is the best! I'm sure you'll love her. The last time she was here, her nieces braided flowers into my hair. Geralt's as well.” At that, Ciri's eyes lit up, and she squeezed Batman maybe a little to tight because she was so excited.

“Okay! But what's a blanketfort?” Confusion clouded her face again, pushing the excitement aside

Dumbfounded, Jaskier looked at her for a moment, before he regained his composure. Ciri had never build or slept in a blanketfort, while he still did that as an adult.

“Oh, sweetie, you're in for a treat! You use a million pillows and as many blankets as you have and kind of make a little house with it.” He waved his hands around to show her how big or small this could be, making Ciri giggle in excitement again. Gone was the confusion. “So, that's a yes?”

She nodded her head vigorously before she got up and hugged Jaskier's leg. She didn't let go, though, so he walked back to his phone with Ciri clinging to him.

“Five sound okay? I have to be at the Pub at six for the gig tonight.”

“Perfect!”

After talking to Geralt and making sure, that he was okay with Ciri spending the night away, Jaskier had packed a couple of things with her and dropped her off at Yennefer's apartment. He'd stayed a moment to introduce them to each other, but he hadn't had a problem with leaving them, after Ciri had taken off with Yen's nieces pretty much straight away. She fit right in with them.

“If there is any problem, anything at all, just call me. Don't worry about the gig, I'll come here straight away.” Jaskier had said that to her before he'd left, and he'd meant every single word. Ciri was his priority. There was always someone who could chip in for him, if he had to leave in the middle of the gig. After all, people weren't paying to see him, it was a gig in his favourite pub, and he loved playing there, but he also loved Ciri, and if she felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, he'd be there in a matter of minutes.

He'd told Geralt about the gig as well, had told him where he'd play and that he wouldn't be home before midnight. It was up to Geralt whether he'd drop by and see Jaskier on stage for the first time instead of only hearing him sing at home. Geralt had told him that he had to meet up with Lambert to talk everything through again, maybe even grab a beer, so Jaskier didn't get his hopes up. Maybe, it was for the better, because having Geralt around in the crowd, would surely make him nervous.

The pub was already bustling when he got there. People having drinks, enjoying their food, it was one of the busy evenings, like it always was when there was the promise of live music.

He took some time to talk to the owner, whom he'd know for a couple of years now, before he grabbed some food as well. That was his usual ritual here: talk to Declan, got a burger and a lager, and then he got ready to take the stage. By now, most people who went here regularly knew him, knew his name, his music, and were looking forward to seeing him on stage, which was definitely noticeable the moment he stepped up to the microphone to greet the audience. Some yelled his name, others cheered, while Jaskier grinned like an idiot. He loved this, and he'd always prefer a pub to the big stage. It was more intimate, more entertaining for him.

He played some crowd favourites, sneaked one of his own songs in – which they already knew because he always played that here – and one request. After an hour, he'd sweat through his shirt, wet hair clinging to the sides of his face, so he actually wanted to take a break, but then he saw him.

Geralt.

It was hard not to notice him, but Jaskier's eyes were always directly drawn to the veteran, to his white hair that was pulled back tonight, to his honey-coloured eyes that were fixed on Jaskier. If he left the stage now, he'd probably not get back up there again, lose his confidence, so he decided to play one more song, to get that over with before he faced Geralt head on.

“This song is for someone who... well, kinda turned my life upside down in the last couple of weeks. I hope you'll enjoy it!” Jaskier smiled nervously, eyes never leaving Geralt. He meant his words in the most possible way, and he hoped that Geralt understood that. He could hardly stand up there and say that it was for someone who made his heart beat fast, who occupied his dreams, and who'd made his life a lot better already? Well, technically he could, but he didn't want to destroy anything they had. All the way from the stage, he could see the confusion in Geralt's face, until he heard the first chord of Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls. The confusion quickly turned into a smile.

He'd remembered. Of course Jaskier had remembered. Just like he'd remembered which tea was Geralt's favourite, how he drank it, what he liked for breakfast. Jaskier had remembered all of this, and it made Geralt's heart swell. He'd only heard a snippet of that song from Jaskier, but it had already touched Geralt's heart. Hearing Jaskier sing that song for him in front of all these people, made Geralt's heart nearly burst. Nobody had ever done anything like that for him, and here he was now, falling even more for the man he was living with.

“When everything feels like the movies, yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive!”

The rasp in Jaskier's voice that was more prominent when he sang that line, sent shivers down Geralt's back. He'd heard Jaskier sing multiple times by now, but always quietly, softly. This was something entirely different, like he was singing his heart out. It was still emotionally laden, still crept under Geralt's skin, just in a different way. He didn't dare look around at the other people, who were obviously adoring Jaskier, but that would mean breaking eye contact with Jaskier. Or was he imagining this? Did Jaskier even see him back here? But when Geralt smiled, Jaskier mirrored it and Geralt was pretty sure that he was looking at him.

Once the song was finished, the crowd erupted into cheers, in which Jaskier basked for a moment, before he told the audience that he'd be back in a bit, but needed to take a break. For a moment, Geralt stood there, but then he set one foot in front of the other to get to Jaskier. He was tall enough to see above most people's heads, so that he could watch where Jaskier was going. They met at the edge of the bar, where Jaskier was getting another lager from Declan. He felt Geralt's presence even before he could see him and turned around.

“You made it!” he said with a big smile on his lips, trying to push his nervousness aside. After all, he'd just sung a song for the man in front of him, who'd seen him on stage for the first time, so he didn't know how Geralt would react.

“Iris, huh?” Geralt said, cocking his head to the side, a smile slowly spreading on his lips. “I can't believe you remembered that's my favourite song.” Actually... he could believe that, because Jaskier had shown him just how well he remembered all kinds of things.

“I never forget anyone's favourite song!” Which was... not entirely true, but he remembered all the favourite songs of the people he cared for, but he wouldn't say it like that right now. He'd already put himself out there enough for one night.

“That was amazing Jaskier. Really!” Geralt's smile softened as he reached for Jaskier's hand, immediately interlacing their fingers, as if he wanted to make sure that Jaskier didn't just bolt on him. How could he, when his heart was beating this fast at the touch? “Thank you for this.”

“I...” Jaskier started, his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He realized that Geralt's gaze shifted from his eyes to his lips and back again, which made Jaskier's heart nearly double over. He didn't want to interpret too much into this moment, about Geralt's behaviour, but Gods, he wanted to believe that it meant something. “You're welcome,” he eventually managed, plastered on a smile.

Geralt hadn't been sure whether it was a good idea to come here tonight or not, but that moment had made all of his worries disappear already. It had been a good idea to come here and watch Jaskier do what he loved.

“Jaskier, they need you in the back,” Declan said when he reappeared next to them again. “They want to talk about some collaboration you were talking about?” Declan had been a musician himself, had toured the world for years, but ten years ago, he'd settled down here and opened the pub. He was one of the greatest people Jaskier had ever met, one of the few people he trusted.

“Ah, right. I nearly forgot about that!” Because of Geralt. That man managed to wipe everything off Jaskier's mind. “You gonna stay? We can go home after the second set together?”

“Yeah... sure,” Geralt said, suddenly taken aback. More so, when Jaskier leaned in and pressed a kiss to Geralt's cheek, before he left him standing there to talk to the other musicians. It had been a bold move for Jaskier, and one to leave Geralt standing there wondering whether he'd imagined that or not. But the skin where Jaskier's lips had touched him was still tingling from that sensation. Geralt probably grinned like an idiot, but he didn't care right now.

Tag-List: @bards-den @thededleadragoria @fingons-rad-harp @rexcorvinus

[write-ur-wrongs]

Mother, Mother pt.2

A/N: Finally ready to post part 2 of my dad!Geralt fic!!! Part 2 is loosely based on this prompt Another request with baby!👀🥰 Reader has a newborn and geralt is just watching them thinking about how much have changed and how reader turned his life around...🍪 so I really want to thank that anon for their prompt and their patience! I definitely took some liberties with this story and worry the plot got lost along the way(?) but I really hope you like it nonetheless! Full disclosure I haven’t proof-read this piece so forgive the many typos!!

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“I said, no,” Geralt repeated himself slowly and with great authority, “thank you.”

The village healer looked at the witcher with eyes wide in disbelief, unable to accept that there was anything a witcher wouldn’t do for coin. Especially this witcher – the White Wolf – or so they used to call him. He used to be a force to be reckoned with on the continent, but now it seemed there was rarely a job he’d be willing to take.

“No? B-but who will help us!” they shouted desperately, “you can’t just leave this village to fend for itself! The creature will kill us all, Witcher!”

Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath before repeating himself yet again. “Please understand, I can’t help you, but I know people who can. Eskel is highly qualified and will be here by the next full moon. He will help you; I assure you.”

“But you’re here now,” the healer said, still shaking his head, “you could resolve this by nightfall! Why should these people wait a week for peace?”

“Hm.” He growled, lowly, biting down on his cheek to keep himself from giving into his rage and his pride. He wasn’t just living for himself anymore, not just living for the coin or by the witcher’s code; he had a family now.

He knew the world wouldn’t be easy to convince regarding his change in career path. Hell, it had taken most of your pregnancy to convince his brothers at Kaer Morhen of his plans. When he first told them you were pregnant, and it was his, they laughed heartily while sharing quick looks of concern between one another; fearing you’d strayed and were trying to play poor Geralt for a fool.

Yet that reaction was nothing compared to the one they gave him when Geralt admitted that his days of being a witcher were over. He’d be a consultant now. He’d travel the continent only when he heard of monsters through Jaskier’s letters, and once he reached these villages, he’d take stock and refer the case to one of his brothers, who’d pay him a modest commission for the referral. Geralt never took contracts he deemed to be too dangerous (which, so it happened, was most of them). The rule was if he wouldn’t readily bring Cirilla along to help, it was too dangerous for him alone.

Once, he let pride take precedence and he accepted a contract he knew was dangerous. It felt good to be back in the saddle, both literally and figuratively. He and Roach took to the forest like birds on a breeze, and his sword was just an extension of himself as he wielded it fiercely and with grace.

While he did conquer the beast in the end, it did put up quite a fight, and everything he thought made the fight worth it was washed away the instant he limped into your home and saw the look on his pregnant wife’s face and heard the cries of his beloved child surprise. To this day, he still feels the panicked sound of Ciri’s fearful shriek and your horrified sob weigh heavily in the pit of his stomach.

He felt this very weight now as he considered this desperate healer’s words. Yes, he’d handled this type of monster many times before, but it wasn’t worth it.

“Listen to me, this type of creature is only a threat during a full moon,” Geralt said, “just educate your people, spread the word, you’re in a position of authority here – use it.”

The healer sighed deeply before muttering to themselves in frustration. They pulled their cloak tighter around their body and made a scene of grabbing the coin-filled sac from the table. Geralt rolled eyes his at the paranoid healer before gesturing for them to head outside.

“Fine, leave! But if you leave now and anyone dies, their blood will be on your hands!” shouted the healer, as Geralt tended to Roach.

Geralt rolled his eyes before mounting Roach, urging her onto the trail.

This isn’t my fight, he thought, and their people will be fine.

You were having a wonderful morning. Wren slept through the night for the first time in who-knows how long, and Ciri was relaxing as she entered her fifth day without a magical episode; those lessons with her aunt Yennefer were definitely paying off.

Now you were savouring the gentle afternoon breeze, resting your knees in the cool earth of the garden as the sun warmed you from above. You loved harvesting produce and tending to the flowers; this year was especially bountiful thanks to a rainy spring and temperate summer. As you picked tomatoes off the vine, you smiled softly at the sound of Ciri celebrating a successful hit on her target across the yard.

Meanwhile, Wren played happily in the dirt at your side. She’s been sitting up on her own now which was such a thrill. Such a small change, but it granted you freedoms you didn’t know you’d been missing.

“Mama, snek!” Wren squealed, proudly holding an earthworm up at you. You laughed in relief upon seeing what she was holding up – for half a second you thought she’d managed to snag an actual snake.

“Wow my girl,” you cooed, “what a find!”

At the sound of your praise, Wren smiled up at you brightly and closed her little fingers around the earthworm with pride.

“Careful now, love! Don’t harm it,” you said, gently prying open her stubby fingers and releasing the worm back into the soil, “these little guys play an important role in the health of our garden.”

“You know she doesn’t understand you, right mom?” Ciri said a little breathlessly after stabbing her sword into the earth.

“I don’t think we can say that with certainty, Ciri. She is a witcher’s daughter after all, we are in for a lifetime of surprises I’d say.” You replied with a small shake of your head. Ciri rolled her eyes at you before making off towards the house at a run.

“Cirilla,” you warned, “don’t leave your sword in the yard! And wipe it down before you take it in – I don’t want dirt tracked in again.”

“Mom!” she groaned, stomping back to get her sword. “Witchers don’t need to do these ridiculous chores…” she said under her breath.

“They don’t get warm meals or comfortable beds either!” you replied in a sing-song, knowing it would drive Ciri crazy – you hated when she grumbled at you. Ciri had great respect for her father but would sometimes treat you like you were nothing more than a headmistress at school. Having spent time with witchers and sorceresses alike, scolding didn’t command respect; at least when you played it light it got her attention.

“Yeah – I know! I’ve lived those lives!” Ciri shouted, storming back towards the house, sword in hand.

Fuck. You forgot she was there when Cintra fell. How could you forget?! She was alone and, on the run, and oh gods if Geralt had been here and heard this he’d –

“Ciri, wait, I’m so sorry. I’m –”

“Sounds like someone could use some help.”

You stopped cold at the sound of the strangers’ voice. It ran through you like mead – ice cold but left a strange burning sensation in its place. Ciri also stopped in her tracks, dropping her hand from the door but keeping a firm grip on the helm of her sword. Ciri cast a quick glance at the stranger standing on the edge of your property before settling her nervous eyes on you.

You did your best to evoke confidence before turning to see this stranger for yourself.

It was Visenna.

Again, you did your best to seem confident as you addressed your eldest. “Ciri,” you said, not taking your eyes off the druid, “take Wren into the house, quickly!”  

“Mom?”

“Cirilla please, take her and go into the house,” you said, impressed at your ability to keep your voice level. “And take your sword with you,” you added, turning to give her what you hopped was a look that encouraged her to stay calm and be careful.

Ciri said nothing but scooped her sister up and onto her hip with one arm while keeping her sword steadily by her side.

Once you heard the door close, you cast a quick glance to make sure your girls were safe before turning your attention back to the woman standing at the gate.

“Why are you here, Visenna?” you asked, holding your head high despite the fact your heart was pounding in your ears.

“Oh child,” her words dripped with condescension, “I never expected my son to write me back, but I had hoped he’d share the contents of my letter with his wife.”

“He told me about the letter,” you said, giving her a tight close-lipped smile, “in fact he told me all about you. So, I’m going to ask you again, why are you here?”

“If you know about the letter, then you know why I’m here.”  

“Could you be so cold as to have you forgotten your history with your son? The way you left him to be tested on like a rat? You have no right to be here.” Your voice cracked as you finished your last sentence, and Visenna tilted her head at your sign of weakness.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, dear. You weren’t there -”

“Neither were you!” you spat; with a harshness you didn’t think you had in you.

“Hm.” Visenna crossed her arms and watched you closely through narrowed eyes. You hated that she reminded you of Geralt as she seized you up – the had the same mannerisms, the same affinity for the non-verbal. Geralt could never know.

The druid’s scrutinizing glare made you squirm, and when you broke eye contact with her for a moment of reprieve, she moved to open your gate. For the briefest moment, your panic left you paralyzed as you watched the woman begin a confident stride towards the house.

“Stop!”

You whipped your head around as you heard Ciri come bursting out of the front door. She was wielding her sword up in front of her with one hand while the other hugged Wren onto her side.

“Do not come any closer, I am warning you!” she shrieked, her light eyes wild as her mousey hair blew behind her.

“Ciri-” you tried, holding one hand out to calm her.

“No!” she yelled, keeping her eyes and her sword fixed on Visenna, who was now standing stock-still at the gate.

“Stop trying to tame her, dear,” Visenna interjected. “Let the lion cub roar.”

At the sound of her old nickname, you took in a sharp breath and felt your heart drop to your stomach. It felt like the world stopped turning as Ciri reacted to the trigger.

Cirilla could handle discussions about her old life in small doses and only on her terms. Whenever the dreams came to her, it would take you hours to calm her down. More often than not, the episodes left you and Geralt drained and deeply concerned. Yennefer was really the only person Ciri responded to, and while her methods and lessons have helped, sometimes the pain brought on by the memories was simply too great.

Now, as the four of you stood in your garden, you could feel the earth begin to vibrate beneath your feet. Ciri’s jaw was clenched tight and her nostrils were flared. She slowly knelt down and placed Wren onto the ground before standing tall once again.

“Do not call me that.” She seethed, voice dripping with magic.

“Come now, child,” Visenna replied, seemingly unaware of the storm brewing, “I am your grandmother. I can help you; teach you.”

“You are not my grandmother!” Ciri shrieked, pushing a violent wind towards the druid which forced her to take a step back. “Get out of here! Leave!”

“I – I don’t mean any disrespect, Ciri. The Lioness was –”

“Ciri, no, wait –”

Everything happened so quickly. You felt the burning rush of Ciri’s magic roar past you and tried desperately to keep your eyes open so you could see Wren. Though your eyes stung against the harsh blast Ciri was emitting, you saw Wren crying soundlessly behind her sister, her chubby hands reaching out towards you in desperation. You tried to step towards her but an invisible force pushed you to the ground. You pulled yourself up on one elbow and tried to reach towards your baby without luck. Everything was burning and it took all of your strength to stay alert.

Meanwhile, Ciri’s blast of magic shot at Visenna like a bolt of lightening. Out of the tip of her sword and from her outstretched hand came a bright blue flame surrounded by pulses of violent wind. The destructive blast uprooted the gate and surrounding fence, throwing them back into the forest beyond. Burning shrapnel and earth flew towards her at breakneck speed, but the druid reacted quickly, pulling a portal with the help of an amulet and escaped the blast.

The garden in the path of Ciri’s blow burned harshly – leaving nothing behind but ash; except for the pocket where you lay. You tried to call out to Ciri to calm her down but there was no air for you to draw from. You let the force of her magic hold you down for a moment, trying to recuperate your strength, and when you looked up again you saw Wren taking a few wobbly steps toward her sister.

Holy fuck, you thought. These were her first steps.

You watched with wide eyes as Wren took step after step towards her sister, whose magic raged on. You were so drained by the weight of Ciri’s magic that you were convinced your eyes were deceiving you.

You watched in disbelief as Wren took step after step towards Ciri. The moment her little hand reached her sisters leg, the spell broke and Chaos released its hold on Cirilla. Drained from the exertion, she lost consciousness and started to collapse in on herself, her sword falling from her hand and onto the ground with a dull thud.

You scrambled to your feet and raced to Ciri, dropping to your knees once you reached her to catch her in her fall. You smoothed the ashen strands out of her face and rocked her gently from side to side, breathing shakily through your silent tears. You didn’t know when you started to cry, but when Wren waddled her way to you and nestled onto Ciri’s lap to press her face into the crook of your neck, you were sure you’d be crying forever.

“What the fuck,” Geralt growled upon seeing the destruction as he rode up to the house from the trail. In a growing panic, he urged Roach into a canter. When they got to where the gate should have been, he dismounted and ran towards the house at a sprint, his heart pounding in his ears. When he saw you sobbing on the ground with an unconscious Ciri and weeping Wren, he lost all control.

“Y/N! Y/N what happened?! Who did this?” he shouted, panic rising. When he spotted Ciri’s sword on the ground, Geralt fell to his knees beside you and quickly scanned you all for any sign of injury. You were weeping, holding tightly to Ciri, who was unconscious, and Wren, you

“Y/N please talk to me,” he said more harshly than he meant it, while brushing wild strands of hair out of your face gruffly.

“Ciri, she um –” you choked, working to slow your breathing, “she lost control of her magic…”

“Yeah, I can see that, love.” He said with an incredulous laugh, his eyes scanning your ruined garden with disbelief. “What the fuck happened to make her so upset? Did – did she have a nightmare? Did you, hm, say something to her?”

“Geralt – no,” you said quickly, the tears you managed to calm coming back with a vengeance.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I just…” Geralt regretted the insinuation that this might have been your fault but he’d only ever seen Ciri’s magic be this destructive when she was afraid or hurt. He was at a loss.

You shook your head and turned in his arms to look back at him, readjusting Ciri and Wren in your arms to free an arm which you placed onto Geralt’s chest. You held his eyes and took a steadying breath, unsure of how he’d react.

“We – we were in the garden just, just like always and,” you cast a quick glance down at your daughters before bringing your eyes back up to Geralt’s, both to ground yourself and to hopefully remind him of their proximity in order to temper his reaction, “and Visenna appeared at the gate.”

He gasped sharply at your words, and his body around you. You brought your hand up to his face and tried to calm him. His cat-like eyes were wild and unfocused – he looked like a frightened child and it broke your heart to see him like this. Wren seemed to sense this too, as she scrambled up and reached towards her father’s hair.

Wren’s light tugs managed to pull Geralt out of his shock momentarily and his eyes seemed to come back into focus. Seeing this change, you gently redirected his attention back to you.

“Visenna came for Wren… T-to take her or, or to raise her or something? She mentioned the letter…” Geralt clenched his jaw at the reminder.

You hadn’t motioned the letter in months. Geralt wasn’t at all ready to welcome his mother back into his life, and he definitely didn’t want her anywhere near his family.

“What did she do to Ciri? I swear I’ll –” he seethed.

“No, no, Geralt,” you interrupted gently, moving your hand back to his chest, “she didn’t get the chance. I don’t know what she was going to do, but Ciri came out with her sword,” you stopped short to look down at her with pride, “to protect us.”

“She did?” Geralt let out another incredulous breath, shaking his head at his child surprise.

“Yeah, it was like nothing I’ve ever seen. Her magic, it destroyed everything in its path but somehow, she was sheltering me from the blast. Visenna escaped through a portal, I- I think? But Ciri was… unstoppable.”

“Y/N, if Ciri was able to harness Chaos like this at her will, to protect you; this could mean –”

“Oh no, love, I’m sorry I’m not telling this right. She came out of the house with her sword to protect us but she lost control when Visenna called her the Lion Cub.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, I know,” you agreed emphatically before adding, “and then she called herself Ciri’s grandmother…”

“Fuck!”

“Right,” you sighed, shaking your head as a shudder ran through you.

“Da-ee,” Wren said suddenly, pushing her little hands into her father’s face, causing a shocked laugh to escape his lips. Geralt’s face softened in a way he reserved for his youngest daughter and the sight of it was enough to pull you out of whatever was left of your panic.

“Oh, gods!” you exclaimed, “Geralt you won’t believe this.”

“Hm?” he hummed, not taking his eyes off Wren; he was completely enthralled by his baby.

“She took her first steps – and, gods it was incredible Geralt – when she touched Ciri, it pulled her out of the trance!” You gushed breathlessly.

“She did? That’s my girl!” he beamed, earning a proud giggle from the toddler. “Fuck I hate that I missed this, you’re just full of surprises aren’t you, goose?” he said, peppering light kisses across Wren’s little face.

“I know, love.” You said softly, leaning into his arms once more. “I’m so relieved to have you home.”

“Come on, Y/N, let’s get our girls into the house.” Geralt said as handed Wren off to you before picking Ciri up gently as he stood. You took his outstretched hand rose to your feet along-side him. “I’m not leaving you again, I promise.”

“Geralt, you say that every time.” You tease lightly, holding the front door open for him.

 “No, I mean it this time Y/N, really.” He said quietly, as he laid Ciri down in her room. “I can’t keep doing this. When I’m gone, all I do is think of you and the girls…” he trailed off when he noticed Wren had fallen asleep on the couch. You smiled tenderly as you watched him cradle her into his strong arms.

“My love, you know you’d go crazy if you stayed here with us all the time.” You said as you smoothed his hair out of his face.

“I’d go crazy if anything ever happened to you.” he whispered.

“Hey now… we’re fine,” you tired to reassure him, “today was an anomaly. I doubt Visenna would try that stunt again. Ciri will be fine, she just needs to rest, and tomorrow we can send word out to Yen for support. We – “you paused to take a steadying breath, “we can’t let fear rule our lives, Geralt.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, setting Wren down into her bed before wrapping his arms around your frame, “now when did you get to be so wise?”

“A certain witcher taught me a few things,” you said, a small smirk playing on your lips, “always preaching something or other but sometimes the lessons stick.”

“Is that so?” he growled, a fighting back a smirk of his own.”

“Hmm,” you teased, kissing him deeply.

[jaskiersvalley]

I JUST READ SALT IN OUR WOUNDS. Chair feeling alone on a battlefield, surrounded by brothers in arms, but not at all his brothers. Feeling ostracised because he doesn't want to see the murder of innocent people. Coming across Eskel as he escapes Nilfgaard, and the two bonding from there. Eskel making his own family in Cahir! Eskel defending Cahir from the other witchers when they're cold to him! I love your writing, it always makes me feel so many things 🧡🧡

Have I ever told you that I love you? Because I do. This is exactly the kind of follow-up I had been thinking about. And I adore the fact that you all but reached into my heart and pulled this out as a prompt. Thank you.

CW: The whole of Kaer Morhen’s residents are selfish idiots.

Not once in his long life had Eskel thought he would rather be on the Path than back at Kaer Morhen. But there he was, relieved to be out of the old keep and grateful that his loneliness was the regular kind that he had grown used to. The isolation of winters with his family had been a new kind of hell that he didn’t really cherish. At least out on the Path, his alienation from the rest of society was the usual, he expected that. But not in his own home.

Over winter a lot had happened. Nilfgaard spread more and Eskel’s usual area for work was now the front line of the war. He discovered it the hard way, could hear the fighting and smell death but curiosity still got the better of him. He crested the small hill and watched as the battle wound down. Nilfgaard was victorious once again and the army cheered wildly as surrender was conceded.

The apparent leader of the Nilfgaardian army approached the enemy who was on his knees. The soldiers pressed close, bayed for blood. While every instinct in Eskel screamed to intervene, to protect the defenseless, he didn’t. Witchers didn’t get involved in human affairs. In the end, his meddling would have been superfluous as the Nilfgaardian general lowered his sword and gestured to the battle field. The enemy would be allowed to collect their injured and dead.

Any breath of relief Eskel may have had was snatched away as the Nilfgaardians started rebelling against their general. Not outright assault but there were murmurs, a few comments of “spineless bastard” and “wet blanket” which carried over the fields to Eskel.

Out of curiosity, Eskel stayed and watched. The armies cleared away the bodies and worked methodically. However, he only had eyes on the general. Nobody seemed to talk to him, once or twice when he tried to initiate something he was scoffed at or outright ignored. By the evening, when the army settled in their camp, Eskel saw an all too familiar story. The soldiers were all huddled up in groups, sharing food, joking and laughing. Meanwhile, their general was sat on the peripheral, a lone figure huddled over a bowl of food. Eskel almost smiled at the way his head dropped forward once or twice as he nodded off.

Eskel himself settled down for the night, telling himself he was there to make sure no nasties came about as a result of the battle. A handful of wraiths would be quite unfortunate after all. He woke up to shouting and jeering. The fires were still burning bright in the camp and Eskel could see a group half carrying, half pushing a reluctant figure. They locked their general in an iron maiden and laughed merrily as they set it closer to a fire.

Witchers didn’t get involved in human affairs. Eskel decided there was still enough human left in him that he could ignore that rule. Without a second thought, he took off towards the camp.

Soldiers backed away from him, probably finding him too monstrous to dare challenge. For the first time, Eskel’s looks and demeanour worked in his favour. He barged into the camp and marched up to the iron maiden, ripping it open.

“By the Law of Surprise I claim him,” he declared, pulling a sweat soaked and weak body from the chamber. It wasn’t how Law of Surprise worked but it didn’t matter. Eskel couldn’t stand by and watch someone be humiliated and tortured for being a decent human.

In the end, Eskel had to carry his human rescue out of the camp because he was too weak to move. Obviously the battle then being stuck in a metal torture contraption near a fire had taken their toll. Back at his own camp, Eskel laid the man on his bedroll and offered a few sips of water every once in a while. When the shivering finally started up, Eskel was there, tugging an old horse blanket over him.

“Thank you,” the man managed to force out of his throat before falling asleep.

The next morning Eskel watched the Nilfgaardian army pack up and move out. He didn’t notice until too late that his rescue was lying on his side and watching silently with him.

“I don’t think they’ll bother you again.” Eskel said by way of greeting. “But you can stick around with me for a few days to be safe.”

A few days turned into a week. Then two. Cahir seemed perfectly at ease, keeping the company of a witcher. When pressed, he simply shrugged. “You’ve treated me with more humanity than anyone before.”

The unspoken “I like you” was still heard all the same. Months went by and still Cahir was by Eskel’s side, choosing the hardship of the Path day after day, even when there had been ample opportunity for better futures for him. A man of his skills and talent would find no problems getting a job in a court.

Seasons changed, the heat of summer gave way to the cool of autumn. All too soon, Eskel was going to have to head towards familiar mountains for winter. He was surprised to find he was dragging his feet.

“What happens if you don’t go?” Cahir asked. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to go all winter either. So Eskel did the right thing.

“Come with me. Spend the winter in the place I used to call home?”

The past tense wasn’t lost on Cahir but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he graciously accepted the invitation.

Come winter, they ascended the mountain together. It wasn’t easy for a witcher so it was downright impossible for a human but Cahir doggedly followed. Their reception at Kaer Morhen was as frosty as the weather. Ciri had screamed and Geralt scowled. If those two were unfriendly with Cahir, logic followed that Jaskier and Yennefer wouldn’t be enamoured either.

Training was difficult, especially because the others seemed to not want to train with Cahir. They had each other where they could unleash their full might and if they wanted to go easy, Ciri was still needing education. It left Eskel to clash swords with Cahir though, more often than not, they ended up hiding in the battlements and looking over the others.

Any hope of Lambert or Aiden proving to be a bit more open were dashed on the second night when Aiden made a passing comment about Nilfgaardians needing to be put down like sick pigs.

“Just as well I’m of Vicovaro,” Cahir had said softly. Not that it made a difference.

Eskel’s last hope was Vesemir and Guxart. Except they cornered him before he could ask.

“I’m glad you’ve found a companion, it was about time you stopped being alone,” Vesemir started.

Guxart finished though. “But did you really have to settle for a human?”

“Jaskier’s human,” Eskel bit back.

“Jaskier’s also ingratiated himself with a powerful sorceress and Ciri adores him. Between them and Geralt, they’re bound to find a solution.”

“I still think that boy has Fae blood,” Guxart grumbled. “Our point is, even Lambert managed to find someone suitable.”

Eskel’s eyes burned even though witchers couldn’t cry. Even worse was the fact that they were in the kitchen and within full hearing of everyone in the dining hall.

“I think you’ll find that Cahir is suitable enough for me.” He’d finally had enough. “He chose me. He wants me. And you know what? I want him too. Being able to love him is enough for me.”

Vesemir stared at Eskel, unused to having resistance from his golden witcher. The obedient one who always nodded. He looked to say something but Eskel was on a roll.

“You’ve all found yourselves a slice of happiness, a family. And I was so happy for you even when you forgot about my existence in favour of those you loved more.” Taking a deep breath, Eskel’s voice dropped to a hiss. “So don’t tell me what my happiness looks like. And don’t you dare try to take it from me.”

Pulling his back straight, Eskel’s nose scrunched up in disdain and he turned, head held high as he marched out of the kitchen. Nobody dared look at him except for Cahir who quietly rose from the table and followed him out.

Not twenty minutes later they appeared downstairs again, bags packed. Going down the mountain wasn’t going to be easy but they would risk it. Eskel didn’t want to spend another minute in the keep amongst those who begrudged him his choices. At least they had a destination in mind, Cahir had described his home in Vicovaro, they would try and make it there.

“Where are you going?” Yennefer asked from the doorway. The others were obviously eavesdropping behind her.

“Anywhere but here,” Eskel bit out, unwilling to share information with her.

“I’ll open you a portal, name your location.”

Cahir was the one to ask for Vicovaro. They were allowed to grab their horses and Yennefer, bundled up in a coat, followed them out. She opened up a portal and offered them a nod.

“I hope you have a good rest of winter.” As aloof as she had been, Eskel knew she wasn’t the real issue. “And I hope to see you both again next winter. I might have something by then to help your predicament.”

It was a nice enough sentiment but it was too little too late. Eskel stepped through the portal with Scorpion behind him, followed by Cahir and his steed. Somehow, he didn’t think he would be back.

[regrettablewritings]

If it’s okay. Can I please request some LOVE headcanons with Jaskier, if it hasn’t already been requested?

Dang . . . We almost got an entire set here with Jaskier 👀

Who said “I love you” first?: You know it was Jaskier. Not only because you’d spent the entire time leading up to that point desperately trying to stifle your newly-found affections, but also because everybody knows that the loudest mouth on the continent has to have the first word. However, given that it’s Jaskier, you don’t buy it at first. For one, the man throws the word “love” around as, well, a bard throws around cheesy prose. Who’s to say that his dramatic gesture of spreading his arms wide and crying out gloriously, “Dear (Y/N)! I have determined that you! Are! The! One!!” wasn’t just another show for him? For another, as much as a part of you wanted to believe otherwise, a much larger part just couldn’t believe the possibility that someone like Jaskier could like someone like you romantically -- in whatever way “someone like Jaskier” could be taken. You initial reluctance to accept the bard’s confession left him a husk of a man, pouting and frustrated as he ranted to Geralt in the secrecy of a rented room at a tavern. All the while, the latter could only bluntly state that it’s Jaskier’s fault for having taken everything without much seriousness to it. His actions got him into this mess, he surely couldn’t expect for them to get him out of it. So he had to go the other way about it. You were very concerned when Jaskier got quiet. He’d already been acting strange for the last while or so, fumbling over his words and even struggling to babble on whimsically to jostle up songs. You had half a mind to assume that the poor fool might’ve been falling sick! But when he insisted he wasn’t, and that you still accompany him to the small plot of gardening land beside the tavern, your curiosity led you to oblige. You simply had to see where this was going. Hopefully to an explanation as to why he’d been acting so funny lately. In hindsight, the silly boy had probably scoped the area to find the most romantic spot. Admittedly, there’s not so many romantic associations one might have with raspberries, but there was a rock large enough to sit upon nearby where they were growing, which Jaskier apparently decided would have to do. It wasn’t a bench or a charmingly rustic fountain, but he still took it upon himself to treat it as though it were just as special. You wordlessly (if confusedly) followed suit, perching yourself on it per his request. Though, the temptation to leap right off of it struck the moment he took your hand into his own and locked eyes with you. You’d never heard Jaskier speak so calmly, so seriously, yet without a hint of graveness in it. You waited for him to reveal that it had been a joke, that he was using the moment to harvest some sort of song fodder from your response. But it never came. He just kept kneeling before you, awaiting your response, the hope in his eyes dwindling bit by bit in the moonlight the longer you went without saying anything. “Oh,” he finally spoke. Your heart could’ve shattered with the hint of trembling in that single syllable. “I, um . . . I suppose it is a bit -- it was a poor choice to -- I shouldn’t have -- ” No sentence sounded right to him in his moment of embarrassment. He tried getting back up, unlocking your hand from his, but your reinforced grip gave him pause. You shook your head, your heart beating so hard and fast that it hurt. And yet, the pain of it dulled when in comparison to the relief and bliss you felt.

What are their primary love languages?: Being the attention whore that he is, it would only be suitable that Jaskier reaps love and affection through words of affirmation and quality time. Yeah, he’s also a very sexual being, but he’s an entertainer down to the bone: It’s simply in his nature to desire your attention. When you spent quality time with him and give him praises meant only for him, you simply must be paying attention to him! And even beyond that, it provides the both of you means to communicate and get to know one another. (Well, more than you would already have to, given that you’re on the road all the time.) But for as arrogant as Jaskier is, that bardic nature goes both ways: It’s also in his nature to appraise everything to the highest and most flowery degree, as well as to throw that attentiveness to physical appeal right back at you. He loves being able to be physically close to you in any way that he can, especially sexually. And if he can make sweet and attentive love to you while also (literally) singing your praises? Worshiping your looks and your responses to his ministrations? It’s like he’s died and gone to heaven, a la le petit mort!

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?: Frequently, when the opportunity provides it. Of course, cuddling is difficult to do when one is on the road. And even though the ground isn’t necessarily the most ideal bed for it, being spooned can certainly help alleviate the dread of having to sleep on a floor that could become muddy soon enough. But that doesn’t stop the two of you from engaging in physical forms of affection whenever you can. You’ve never really been one especially for public displays of affection, but something about holding Jaskier’s hand as the two of you trail behind Geralt and Ciri just feels right. His hold is soft and warm, with only trace amounts of callousness due to his constant strumming on the lute. And when the group takes a break, you could think of nothing more refreshing than being able to sit at the base of a large tree and tuck yourself into the crook of your significant other’s arm as the both of you rest in silence, just enjoying the ambience. Sometimes, if you’re in an especially bubbly or affectionate mood, kisses wind up exchanged with no care on if Geralt or the child see you. There’s nothing shameless about giving your beloved a kiss on the cheek or even a quick peck on the lips, is there? Besides, the real shame should fall on Jaskier for always taking it too far by trying to kiss a line up your neck. It just gets taken up to an 11 when you actually have a proper bed to sleep on: The spooning increases, the not so sneaky caresses along the sides make an appearance, and the not-even-trying-to-hide-it attempts at lovingly groping your lovely bits are made because at least now there’s some privacy. And if you’re in the right mood and not too tired from your travels, you don’t mind indulging.

What are their favorite things to do together?: It depends on where the two of you are, but the one consistency is chatting and flinging jokes at one another. Jaskier fancies himself a man of wit so when you prove not to be afraid of playing along or hucking jokes right back at him, he takes it as a game. One of the competing sort. No matter how you may try, that game is going to turn into the two of you trying to make the other laugh or blush with some crude or colorful remarks. (And you can pretend you’re above it all you want, you’re clearly enjoying it.) He also likes how much inspiration your talks can give him, from you recounting the places you’ve seen to the people you’ve encountered (though you insist it’s nowhere near as impressive as he tries to make them sound in song form).

Who’s better at comforting the other?: As observant and intuitive as Jaskier can surprisingly be, this doesn’t always mean that he’s the best at using what he’s learned to calm the situation. If anything, his skittish and overly talkative nature can only drive you further into frustration if he’s not too careful. You know he means well, but Jackie can still be a bit overwhelming if one is already not in the best mood. But when it comes to calming him, you’re one of the best there is. At the very least, you’re able to distract him enough or praise him enough to where he’ll become a little less catty. He may be pouting as he rests his head against your breast, but he’s (not so) secretly eating up the proximity, how your fingers gently card through his hair, how warm your chest feels as it vibrates with your words . . . Words that are, of course, telling him what a talented minstrel he really is, especially compared to that hack of a troubadour, Valdo Marx. The moment you feel him smirking is the moment you know he’s let go of all pretenses of being upset — he’d felt good as new long ago. Still, you let him stay there.

Who’s more protective?: I suppose Jaskier, though the more fitting term would be “possessive.” Jaskier isn’t a very competent fighter (read: He cannot fight at all) so when it comes to physical well-being, he isn’t much good for keeping you any more guarded than however fast you both can run away from the problem. He’s more of a guardian when it comes to the heart or a person’s mental well-being. As embarrassingly idiotic as he can sometimes be, he isn’t so completely unaware as to not notice toxicity in other people. Unfortunately, he’s ironically not very good at vocally communicating this. As a result, he can come across as clingy or annoying. Which he is. But also, he doesn’t want you hurt and has your best interests in mind. Meanwhile, you care plenty for his physical well-being but also know you’re not much of a fighter, either. Besides, Jaskier’s gotten by on the road by himself far longer than you’ve known him -- apparently, he knows how to at least keep his head still attached to his body.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?: Both. As a stereotypical bawdy bard, he loves giving it, and as a humanoid peacock of a man, he loves receiving it. Let him lay his head in your lap while you stroke his hair and tell him what a wonderful performer he is, and how his voice makes you weak and yet empowered with desire --

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?: It may seem a bit rough to apply a song to such a musical man, but quite a few do come to mind: “Sweet Talk” by Saint Motel, “Put Your Money on Me” by The Struts, “Fall in Love” by Bad Rabbits, “Hands” by Barns Courtney . . . Now, if you take the time to listen to these or even look up some of the lyrics, you’ll notice a trend: A man pining for a woman who’s always just ever so slightly out of his reach. Or a man singing his delight for a woman who seems altogether unimpressed or at least hesitant to take a chance on him. Or the girl is just elusive. Which makes perfect sense, given that you’re one to guard her heart when in the face of the minstrel while Jaskier is the one putting his own entirely out there for you. But don’t be dismayed: Jaskier loves a good chase. His type is best defined as “someone he shouldn’t have or must at least bust his ass to acquire”, as one can assume from his interactions with concubines, higher-standing nobility, mothers, warriors, Geralt . . . But if you have a taste for something more optimistic or lighthearted, fear not: There’s always “Easy Way” by For the Foxes or “Undone” by The Bird and the Bee. What makes a song like “Undone” unique, however, is that it’s more for your point-of-view. Your feelings for Jaskier are complex yet so simple. He knows you’re not exactly the best at emoting, much less when it comes to your affections. But sometimes, you think that’s a good thing: If you were even half so brave or careless, the poor man might’ve died from your more frequent desire to kiss him to death (not that he would mind dying in such a pretty way). You can put on a calm expression all you want: Inside, you’re a storm of thoughts. You want to impress him, you want him to think you’re witty and bewitching, you want to be his yet one definite thing, you want to be the one who, well, can make him come undone with just a kiss. And it just takes you aback sometimes to realize that the very man, known for his philandering, already sees no wrong in you, and that he wants nothing more than the very same. With you and only you.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?: It startled you to learn one day that you’d been calling him a nickname the entire time. In hindsight, yeah, it made sense: “Jaskier” was unusual as a given name. But you had grown so used to it and how it fit him like it was bespoke, that learning his real name was Julian just . . . It felt weird. Still, that didn’t erase the fact that, yes, Jaskier was technically still a nickname for him that you’d been using, knowingly or not. Though, every once in a while you would make an attempt to refer to him as something else: “Baby Eyes”, you realized, had some unusual sticking power to it.It’s normally used in an almost pouty tone, usually to accompany the pouting Jaskier’s already doing when you say it. Not in a taunting manner, but as if to extend sympathy. You hadn’t even meant for the name to keep reappearing but it just rolls off the tongue, especially whenever Jaskier looks at you with those blue eyes, fixed in a puppyish pout. He also seems to respond well to names that suggest his talent or genius, but we would be here all night running through the specifics due to how ridiculously and pointlessly long they are. The length of Jaskier’s names had actually become a bit of a problem even when in reference to you: It’s not really a nickname when your lover wants to refer to you as “Stunning Little Starling of the Northern Sky” or “Darling Daffodil of the Valley” and so on. He’s had to shorten quite a few down to “Starling” or “Darling” or “Daffodil” or “My Muse” or “Exquisite One, Conqueror of My Heart, Goddess of My Sleeping Hours, Patron Saint to My Loins --”.

Thank you for your patience!

[clintbartonswife]

burying her head into his chest and clinging to the moment

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier, Yennefer x Triss Summary: Finally safe, Jaskier struggles at the thought of being reunited with Geralt and Yennefer, all the while recovering from the mental and physical trauma inflicted during his stay with Nilfgaard. Meanwhile, Geralt and Ciri deal with their guilt. Notes: mentions of injury, recovery, self-doubt, round-about mentions of rape (no vivid descriptions but it’s hinted that it happened) masterlist  ||  part one  ||  part two  ||  part four

The first thing he noticed was the softness surrounding him, the comforting warmth so different to anything he had experienced the past couple of weeks. It felt like he was sinking into a marshmallow, his fragile body being supported by a cocoon of blankets.

‘I must be dead’ he figured, cracking one eye open, only to be greeted by a blurry image of a small girl sat in a chair by his bedside, hair silver as the moon.

“Melitele?”

His voice came out cracked and sore, and the bard winced at the harsh sound cutting through the once peaceful silence.

“You’re awake!” she said, rising up from her seat, "I’ll go and get Triss”

As the girl fleed from the room, her face finally registered with the bard.

“Oh fuck” 

If the princess of Cintra was here, Geralt couldn’t be far behind.

“Nice to see you’re awake”

Jaskier turned to face the newcomer, a pretty woman with an even prettier smile. A few months ago he would’ve probably tried to flirt, but for now he just gave the woman a smile, nodding in greeting.

“You were in bad shape when you arrived here” the woman Triss said, dragging the sheet down and revealing his chest, “I managed to stop the internal bleeding but I used too much of my energy to get rid of the surface wounds. I could try and heal them today if you’d like?”

“Surface-” Jaskier cut himself off, scrambling to look at his hands, the image of his broken fingers still clear in his mind.

Sensing his panic, Triss moved slightly closer, “that was one of the first things we fixed. I was told it was important”

The bard sighed in relief, “Thank you” 

Triss startled at the sound of his voice, narrowing her eyes in concern, “Did they harm your throat? I could try and fix that? I know your singing is important to you”

‘watch how he sings for me’

Jaskier winced, shakily raising a hand to touch his throat, nodding gently.

“Okay”

The sorceress smiled reassuringly, approaching the side of the bed, “may I?”

“Yes”

He closed his eyes as she reached towards him, her fingers skimming lightly along his adam’s apple, the tingling sensation of magic working around the ache until it had all-but disappeared. 

“There” her voice seemed tight, though Jaskier chalked it up to magic-exhaustion.

“Thank you” he said, the words coming much easier now.

Triss just nodded, smile looking slightly more forced, “I’ll leave you be. I’m sure you’re hungry - Ciri will bring up lunch in a few minutes”

Jaskier just nodded once more, eyes trained on his fingers, watching as he flexed and moved the joints without pain, the relief still palpable in the air.

“How is he?”

"As I’ve told you every time, he’s fine. He will live”

Geralt sighed, relaxing back into his chair.

“I don't understand why you don't go and talk to him” Ciri frowned, “You saved him after all”

The Witcher just shook his head, glaring at the floor, “He wont want to see me. We didn't end things well”

Ciri huffed, making her distaste of the answer clear, before picking up the bowl of soup and heading for Jaskier’s room. 

As soon as she left, Geralt redirecting his gaze back to Triss, “How is he really?”

“Physically, he’s fine, truly, but the rest is going to take time Geralt. He’s traumatised... I think they - his throat was bruised. Not from the outside but the inside. We’re dealing with more than just surface wounds here”

Geralt couldn't contain the growl that ripped from his chest, fists clenching.

“No need to growl at Triss” Yennefer said, breezing into the room and standing vigil behind the other woman, “We know the people that took Jaskier were piece of shits and they’re dead now. They cant hurt him anymore”

“But they did. Because of me” 

“Don’t get big-headed Geralt, not everything in the world is about you. Nilfgaard are pieces of shit. This is what they do. Those people would’ve hurt someone, and Jaskier is good at getting himself in trouble”

“He sings about Witchers because of me -”

“And if he met Eskel first he would sing of Witchers because of Eskel, this is not your fault Geralt. So please stop your whining”

“I pushed him away”

Yennefer sighed, crossing her arms, “Yes you did do that. That is on you, but you would’ve split up eventually for winter and this would’ve happened anyway”

Lost for words, Geralt just nodded, averting his eyes back to the floor.

“He’s going to be alright” Triss added, voice soft, “He will, but at some point you’re going to have to let him know that he’s not alone”

With that, the two women left the room, leaving Geralt to his brooding thoughts, the guilt crashing over him in waves.

“Jaskier” 

The bard jolted from his daze, sitting up straight, “Please not again!”

A shocked silence descended over the room as he regained his bearings, the past day returning to him, “Oh - oh your highness I apologise”

“No, it’s my fault” the girl said, moving closer, a tray held in her hand, “I shouldn’t have woken you like that.”

Jaskier shook his head, slowly pushing himself in to an upright position.

“I’ve brought you soup” Ciri smiled, placing the tray over his lap once he settled, “I helped make it this morning”

“Well then I’m sure it will be wonderful” Jaskier replied, his courtly charm re-emerging.

Ciri bounced happily on the balls of her feet, placing the water on the beside table, “Would you like to eat alone? I can stay if you want”

The bard smiled and gestured for her to sit down on the chair beside the be, glad for the company.

The two sat in companionable silence for roughly a minute before Ciri burst, the question spilling out of her mouth in a rush, “I think you may have played at my court a few years ago - I recognised your face in my dreams - did you play at my name day a few years ago?”

Setting down his spoon, Jaskier turned to the princess, “Yes I did, every year up until you turned 8. Calanthe decided she didn't want me returning so after that I wasn't invited back to court”

“Why? Did something happen?”

Jaskier sighed, accepting that his coup was going to have to wait for a bit, and placed the tray down on the bed beside him.

“You should know by now of your destiny”

“Being tied to Geralt? Yes. I found him a few weeks ago in the forest near Sodden”

‘So he's definitely here’ Jaskier thought anxiously, swallowing down the thoughts for now to continue with the line of questioning.

“Well I was there when he called for the Law of Surprise. Your mother, Pavetta, invited me back to your first name day celebration as a way of saying thank you. Though I think the invite was really meant for Geralt. So... I took it upon myself to check on you, only once a year, for as long as I could. By the time you were 8 I think that Calanthe was scared that I’d try and take you to Geralt behind her back - sneak you out of the castle somehow - and so she asked that I didn't come back”

Ciri nodded slowly, and Jaskier could practically see the wheels turning in her head. She eventually spoke, “So you knew my parents?”

“Oh, yes. They were lovely people, kind and fair.” Jaskier huffed a laugh as a reminiscent smile crossed his face, “I remember on your first name day they couldn't stop watching you, their love for you shining even brighter than that for each other. It was clear to everyone in that rom that you were a gift, Calanthe even let me play you some lullabies - and that woman never liked me playing anything but a jig.”

The bard was pulled out of his memories by a small sob to his left.

“Aw - no - Ciri come here” Jaskier cooed, opening his arms for the girl. She accepted the offer gladly, curling up in his embrace and placing her cheek against his chest.

“Do you think they’d be proud of me?”

Her voice was meek, mostly muffled against the now-damp fabric of his chemise. An ache radiated through his chest, the position reminding him of his younger sister back in Lettenhove.

“Oh, Cirilla, of course they would be. You’ve been so strong” he replied, stroking her hair gently, “You’ve done everything you were supposed to do, okay? You fought to keep yourself safe and you found Geralt”

“But all the people that have died -”

“That’s not your fault, you couldn’t have stopped Nilfgaard. A whole army against one person? In no world is that a fair fight”

“But you -”

“My kidnapping is not on you either” He said sternly, “I’m a bard, we know a lot of things. I likely would’ve been captured for information anyway, that’s the unfortunate way of the world. I can promise you that none of that is your fault”

Ciri hummed an affirmative noise, lifting her head from his chest, wiping her eyes, “I didn't mean to cry on you like that, I’m sorry”

Jaskier just smiled, “You cant be strong all the time, Ciri. Everyone cries, bottling it up can make things worse”

“I was always told to be strong. Grandmother - I need to be strong. I haven't seen Geralt cry”

Jaskier shifted slightly so that he was eye-level with the princess, “Crying doesn't make you weak, far from it in fact. But if you need to vent and don't want anyone else to see you can always come to me. Okay?”

Ciri nodded, though this time more self-assuredly, “Thank you Jaskier”

Smiling, Jaskier patted her shoulder amicably, “Right I should probably finish my soup. Why don't you fill me in on what I’ve missed in the world whilst I eat - has Valdo Marx died yet?”

“Who’s that?”

Jaskier chuckled, “We’re going to be very good friends, I can already tell”

Ciri flashed a grin, head tilting towards the door as her name was called from downstairs. Jaskier saw her hesitate, looking back a him.

“Go ahead. I’ll be fine”

“Okay, I’ll come back as soon as I can” 

As the door closed behind her, Jaskier slumped, the façade of energy draining away almost instantly. He stared down at his hands, the fingers throbbing with a dull ache, barely holding back tears.

‘What worth is a bard if he cant play anymore?‘

______________________________________________________________

@kittynannygaming  @fillingless-piee​  @nanazlovese​  @anotherunoriginal​  @baron-von-wilderpantz

[witched-the-watcher]

Geralt and Yennefer are living their well earned happily ever after and Jaskier is mortal. Jaskier is happy for Yen and Geralt after everything is said and done. Together with Ciri they brought peace to the land and finally made their relationship work after much hardships. It is a hard won decision, but Geralt, tired of all the fighting, decides agrees to take a break from being a witcher and just retire for a while with Yennefer by his side exploring and enjoying their new relationship.

The plan for their retirement doesn’t involve Jaskier and he doesn’t ask to accompany them. This is the ending of their story and he was never a protagonist. Side characters have no role in the happily ever after and he came to terms with a long time ago. All of them walk together side by side not quite ready yet to say their goodbyes. In his heart he knows it will be the last time they’re together like this, but he refuses to say the words out loud clinging to the hope that he will see them all again. The immortals by his side don’t notice the inner conflict, he hides with song and laughter.

First to go is Ciri, who has become like a daughter to him over the years even if the sentiment isn’t quite shared. To her, he ponders, he must be more like a fun uncle she can turn to when she needs a break from Geralt and Yen. He gladly gives her everything she needs and asks for and is so proud of the strong woman he helped raise. When she depards, eager to find her own place in the world, she leaves them alone in a clearing far enough from Kaer Morhen for Yen to use her portals.

Who would’ve thought the witch would grew on him so much over the years. A deep and chaotic friendship connects them now and knowing she finally found the love she’s been looking for all her life fills him with joy. The jealousy he used to feel towards her seems an eternity away. She deserves all the love she’s getting and gives so much back in return. Thanks to her hardly a day goes by without Geralt smiling and even with his smiles mostly directed at Ciri and Yen, Jaskier can’t find it in his heart to be discontent.

Geralt, grown so very soft compared to their beginning, initiates a hug and Jaskier allows himself to indulge in a fantasy of what could’ve been and never was. He imagines a life full of secret glances and stolen touches, whispered confessions over the campfire and a warm bed to return to. He imagines Geralt turning his embrace into a passionate kiss asking him to run away with him somewhere far away and then he lets go.

“See you around, Geralt.” He says with a smile as Yen leaves with him through a portal and he is left alone on the clearing.

Tears he held back for weeks flow freely down his cheeks now that there is no one is see and Jaskier takes his time to collect himself again before starting his journey again. It’s nearly dusk already and he should start putting it all into song. Audiences love a good happy end. 

His bones ache.

Time passes and the story of the witcher, the mage and the lioness becomes a legend, told and sung about far and wide. Jaskier has spend his last active years as a bard spinning them into an epic tale immortalising them for all generations to come. He can’t stand the thought of the world forgetting the trio and their deeds.

Yen and Geralt have all but disappeared from the face of the earth, but Ciri keeps up with him those first few year through letters and visits. She is a busy woman however and with time their contacts becomes few and far between until they cease completely around the time Jaskier decides to move to the coast to live out the last of his years.

He doesn’t blame her. She, like her parents, wasn’t made for a mortal life and why would you count the decades if you’ll live for centuries. By the time they will think of him again, he can only hope his songs will be enough for them to remember him by. 

Living by the sea is all that he thought it would be. He loves the unpredictable beauty of the ocean, the stormy winds and the salty air. The people are rough but merry and welcome the old rich professor from the big city with open arms, even though he’s grown completely useless over the years. His time as a bard is long since over and neither his hands nor his voice allow him to create the music he prides himself in anymore. All he has left are the stories of his youth, that he gladly shares with everyone in town.

One late spring day a big commotion is running through the little coastal town. A witcher has arrived and everyone is excited. They heard the heroic songs and stories about witchers and want to catch glimpse of the living legend. As the oldest in town and the only one who has any experiences with magic folk the townspeople steal him out of his cozy home and bring him out to talk and negotiate with the witcher.

He sees Geralt standing in the middle of the market square surrounded by curious and excited people of all ages, who dare not approach him just yet except for a couple of children held back by their parents. He is scowling. Of course he is scowling, Jaskier thinks as his heart begins to soar again. He tries telling himself that he is far too old for such silly romantic feelings, but he knows that him giving up on romance is just as likely as Geralt giving up on scowling.

The witcher has obviously been in a fight. His clothes are torn and there are bite and scratch marks all over his body. The people must’ve told Geralt to wait for him before talking to anyone because as he arrives inside the circle Geralt immediately faces him clearly annoyed at the whole procedure and asks

“You’re the elder here?”

Jaskier nods dumbfounded. For once in his life he does not quite know what to say as he tries to keep the tears from falling. Geralt clearly doesn’t recognize him as old and wrinkled as he is and Jaskier isn’t sure if he wants him to or not. Age has always been a bit of a sore spot considering the ageless company he liked to keep. In his youth he tried everything to look as young as possible but not even the best moisturizer in the world could help him now, he thinks slightly bitter as Geralt continues.

“Finished the job. I want my coin and place to stay for the night.”

The job? Jaskier is momentarily baffled. As far as he knows there were no monsters around except for the couple of teenage mermaid messing with the fishermen for the last couple of weeks but surely they couldn’t have banged up Geralt this badly.

“With the job you mean the mermaids?” He asks carefully trying to keep his voice steady.

“Hmm” Geralt grunts as eloquent as ever and Jaskier loses it and starts laughing. Decades later and Geralt still thinks “hmm” is a good enough answer to give. Decades later and Jaskier still understands him perfectly. He loves this beautiful idiot so much it hurts.

The way to the square and seeing Geralt again has tired Jaskier out and he needs to sit down. Thankfully someone in the crowd already brought a chair expecting him to need a rest after this encounter and guides him gently to sit down. Jaskier would’ve thanked the man if it weren’t for the fact that he’s still wheezing thinking about Geralt’s most recent heroic fight.

“You got beat up by a bunch of teenagers? How out of shape are you? You know you were just supposed to scare them a bit, right?” Jaskier manages to spit out in between his giggles.

“Now listen here, old man. You don’t-” Geralt starts through gritted teeth, unamused, only to be interrupted by Jaskier’s continuous laughter.

“Old man? Really, Geralt. We both know you’re much older than me in age and in spirit.”

Jaskier can see Geralt freeze up, confusion and dread slowly overtaking his expression but he continues talking unperturbed. Let Geralt figure it out for himself

“Seriously though you must’ve really let you go in your retirement. Yen’s magic made you lazy didn’t it? Please don’t tell me you’re hiding a potbelly unter all those armor. No, no Yen wouldn’t let you get one, I’m sure, but for you to lose your touch so completely. You must admit this is pretty hilarious.”

Tears have filled Jaskier’s eyes and he tries to wipe them away struggling to keep his laughter under control. Meanwhile, Geralt stumbles a bit, so out of place for the normally unfaced witcher. His eyes have grown wide in shock and his face pale. It’s proof enough for Jaskier that Geralt really didn’t realise how much time has passed between them and he feels lighter, relieved knowing Geralt hasn’t meant to forget about him for so many years. Who is he to judge Geralt for getting caught in the storm of love, when he’s standing here before him looking so vulnerable and scared all of a sudden. 

“J-Jaskier?” Geralt stutters in a fragile whisper and Jaskier’s heart clenches in his chest. Seeing him like this is hurting the witcher and there’s nothing he can do about except for making light of the situation and smiling through it just like in the good old days.

“Took you long enough, old friend. I was already scared you might’ve gotten forgetful in your old age.” He teases and notices the murmurs and stares of the bystanders all around them. In a dramatic motion he raises his hands and tries to shoo everyone away.

“All of you scram. Shoo! Let me catch up with Geralt in peace. Satisfy your curiosity tomorrow after the poor man had a proper bath. And you,” He faces Geralt again and waves him over. “Come here and help me up, will you. You can stay at my place for the night. Melitele knows I could use the company.”

Oh, he shouldn’t have said that, Jaskier notes grimly as Geralt winces slightly at his words. He promises to be better and make this visit count. It’s unlikely that he’ll have another chance to be with Geralt like this and tainting their last time together with thoughtless remarks and accusation just would not do. He wants his love to have some good memories when he thinks of this in the future.

Almost mechanically Geralt obeys and ,unnoticed by anyone but him, hesitates only for a second before helping him him up.

“My house is not far but this might take a while. I’m not as fast on my feet as I used to be. But then neither are you it seems.” He says with a laugh gesturing at Geralt’s torn clothes. The only retort he gets is a grumpy growl as he links his arm with the witcher’s using him as a crutch and leaning into him just a little bit more than absolutely necessary.

The people scatter around them some slightly disappointed but mostly cheerful. Jaskier knows the town will go and prepare a surprise feast for tomorrow with Geralt as the guest of honor. And Geralt will pretend to hate it as much as he will secretly enjoy all the positive attention he’ll be getting. They make their way towards his house and it’s once again up to Jaskier to fill the silence. He tells Geralt about the town and its people, acutely aware of the stares Geralt is giving him. It must be hard for the witcher to see him like this all frail and wrinkled. 

“I may not have your magical witcher senses but even I can feel your staring, Geralt. What’s the matter?” Jaskier asks knowing full well the reason behind his behaviour. 

Sometimes Geralt needs to be forced to talk or else his quiet brooding will consume him and every attempt at conversation will be for naught. To Jaskier’s surprise however one question is enough to make him talk. Looks like he’s not the only one who changed a bit over the years.

“You look old.” Geralt blurts out, making Jaskier raise an eyebrow. “Yeees, that’s because I am old. Very old in fact. Still younger than you of course, but not everyone can be an ageless immortal like you.” He responds. Geralt has to do a little better than that.

“No, I mean you look older. You never looked older before. I didn’t realise how long it’s been. I forgot…" 

Regret oozes out of Geralt’s words and he doesn’t bother hiding it. It reminds Jaskier of his apology after the mountain disaster and he’d much rather not be reminded of that chapter of his life again, so he takes pity on Geralt and continues for him.

"You forgot that I’m just mortal. That I’m ageing like a normal human. I don’t blame you, my dear. Back then I was obsessed with looking young and terrified of growing older. Thought you wouldn’t want me around if I wasn’t uh pretty enough anymore." 

Geralt tries to interrupt him, likely for things he already knows or god forbid to apologize again for the mountain incident but Jaskier simply shushes him and keeps going.

"That was a load of horse dung of course. You should’ve seen me in my sixties, Geralt. I was the most sought after professor in Oxenfurt history. I broke so many hearts in those days.”

He sighs dramatically. “I gave the distinguished gentleman look a whole new meaning. Turns out graying hair and a couple of wrinkles just made me look more dashing. Even you wouldn’t have been able to resist my charms.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Geralt answers sounding amused and the thought of Geralt visiting him back in Oxenfurt makes him stumble. 

It had been a foolish fantasy of his. He used to imagine Geralt finding him in Oxenfurt during a lecture and suddenly becoming captivated by his new more mature side. After the lecture Geralt would be overcome with passion and drag him into a side corner, kiss him and apologize for how long it took to seek him out again. It would’ve been worth the wait.

Geralt holds him steady and helps him catch his footing. He is pretty winded after their short walk and needs a moment to catch his breath.

“You don’t have to take my word for it. There’s a painting of me in Oxenfurt somewhere on the campus. You should check it out next time you’re there.”

“I will. I promise.” Geralt says looking at Jaskier with an honest expression.

He feels heat rising in his cheeks and splutters. “Eh, um right well. Ah, here we are. My house. It’s not much but enough for an old man like me. Let’s go in.”

A bath was already waiting for them when they arrived. Marie, his housekeeper, had rushed home as soon as she heard Geralt would be staying with him and made the necessary preparation. He hired her some years back to help him around the house after he broke his leg in a stubborn attempt to do everything himself despite his age. His leg healed but Marie stayed. At least twice a day she comes around to cook him food, take care of the chores and keep him company for a bit. 

After Jaskier introduces her to Geralt and thanks her for her efforts she excuses herself to cook dinner leaving both men alone once again only a bath between them. He carefully sits down on the stool next to the bathtub and makes a silent note to give Marie a raise as Geralt undresses and gets in. Sexual pleasure might be beyond him now but her can still appreciate the form and Geralt even after decades of retirement is a sight to behold. He wonders briefly, while admiring the muscles before him, if witchers were even capable of losing their well toned bodies. Imagining Geralt skinny with no muscles or as big and soft man however does nothing to make him look any less appealing in Jaskier’s mind and he absentmindedly pours some of Geralt’s favourite bath oils into the water. 

An old routine is overtaking them and for a moment Jaskier forgets about his aching bones and brittle body. Feeling young again he prepares to help Geralt wash and hums a little melody. 

A silly little song he once came up with a couple of years into their friendship. Just the two of them under the night sky, a warm fire illuminating their camp as they had one too many drinks. He was teasing Geralt about something insignificant and Geralt retorted by singing a couple of lines back to him. The alcohol relaxing him enough to smile at Jaskier and with a sudden clarity the bard realised that he wasn’t feeling the simple fleeting infatuation he was used to, but something different entirely. Something true and lasting and all consuming. This was the love he sang about in his songs and had yet to fully grasp. This was the kind of love that could push him up to the greatest heights or leave him wanting forevermore. He listened to more of Geralt’s tone deaf singing and let himself fall, damn the consequences.

“I missed this” Geralt says relaxing into the bathtub.

You couldn’t have missed it that much or you would’ve come to see me sooner, Jaskier doesn’t say, instead he replies with a simple “Me too” and gently pushes Geralt’s head into the water.

“It’s a shame you cut your hair though.” He continues running his hands through the white hair. “Washing it was always my favourite part.”

“I forgot to take care of it and after a while it got all tangled up. Had to cut it in the end.” Geralt explains and Jaskier rolls his eyes exasperated.

“I spend so much time and money caring for your luscious white locks and you just forgot. I can’t believe it. My poor beautiful white hair. Where was Yen in all of this? I know she knows how to take care of long hair. How could she let this happen?”

Geralt lets out a chuckle that leaves him breathless as he glances at him with an oh so fond smile on his stupidly handsome face.

“She’s fine with me as long as I don’t smell too badly. You’re the only person invested enough in my personal hygiene to help me bathe.”

Jaskier, embarrassed, slaps a bunch of soap on Geralt’s head as a response and starts massaging it in. Geralt however moves away from his touch and takes Jaskier’s hands in his examining them carefully.

“You don’t have to do this.” Geralt frowns, worry in his eyes. “They must hurt.”

“They don’t. They’re just a bit stiff and hard to move. You won’t hear me play the lute anytime soon but this I can still do.” He reassures him. Today is one of the good days and meeting Geralt made him feel much more energized than usual. He can barely feel his aching joints and the moment.

“Now turn around like a good boy and let me have my fun.” He orders and Geralt obeys with a hmm.

After the the bath they treat the worst of Geralt’s few remaining wounds and make their way to the kitchen. Marie left their dinner neatly on the table before leaving for the day most likely to help the others out with the preparations for tomorrow.

They eat in comfortable as sun sets through the window illuminating the small room in orange hues. Jaskier doesn’t have much of an appetite and leaves his food for later in favour of watching Geralt eat. Neither him nor Yen knew how to cook anything more complicated than plain vegetable soup and from the way Geralt is devouring Marie’s cooking they haven’t bothered to learn it in his absence either. Idiots,the both of them.

“What are you smiling at?” Geralt asks him noticing him staring.

Jaskier ignores the question and proposes to go outside and watch the sunset instead. A couple of minutes later Geralt finishes eating and helps him around the house to the backyard and onto the bench facing the ocean. He had to be carried for most of the way there, his legs giving out under him at last. It’s been a long and he’s exhausted, only the thought of Geralt finally being at his side again keeping him awake.

Jaskier leans against the other man resting his head on his shoulder and watches the ocean waves move back and forth glistering under setting sun.

This is it, he thinks, this is what pleases me. He had been right all those years ago on the mountain when opened his heart to Geralt and asked him give him a chance to prove himself. A quiet life like this, just the two of them and the sea, would’ve been enough to calm his yearning heart.

“You’re quiet.” Geralt remarks, breaking the serene silence.

“Hmm.” He teases but Geralt’s mind is somewhere else. He seems uneasy, concerned.

“Have you ever been married? Are there any children?” The witcher blurts out blunt as ever-

The questions make him chuckle. “Of course not.”

“Why not?” Geralt pushes. “You said you had a lot of admirers back in Oxenfurt. There must’ve been opportunities.”

“Certainly.” He agrees lightheartedly and pats Geralt’s arm. “But how could I marry someone else when my heart already belonged to you. That wouldn’t have been fair.”

Geralt’s face crumbles. “Jaskier, I-”

“Oh don’t give me that look, Geralt.” He interrupts him. “We both know you’re much more observant than people give you credit for and I’ve never made loving you a secret.”

Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand in his and places a kiss on his knuckles.

“I never once regretted it. Any of it. So please no more apologies, my love.”

“Okay.” Geralt whispers and squeezes his hand tightly in response letting silence fall between them once again.

Okay, Jaskier repeats in his mind as he closes his eyes for the last time to the sound of the waves and the wind and Geralt’s slow and steady heartbeat. He is happy like this. It’s good enough.

[scribblingfangirl]

CHILD SURPRISE | The Witcher - Part One

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: My first request! Thank you so much nonnie! I’m sorry it took me so long and I really, really hope you like and enjoy what I came up with. I’m very aware that this is mostly a shorter and changed recounting from Ep. 6 and that you’d probably wanted to see more of the aftermath, but somehow that’s where my mind went and I had to follow it. Please excuse me if I went totally against your will. I could do a part two if you wanted to? Or rewrite it?

word count: ~ 1.9k

request: Hello! Please could you write something where the reader is Geralt's child surprise (instead of Ciri) and they find out that Geralt said "I'd rather use my child surprise as bruxa bait"? Perhaps set during that mountain scene with Jaskier & Yen? 🌷

warnings: swear words, mentions of death, spoilers for Episode 6 of The Witcher

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You were sitting on a bench in front of the tavern when they came back. The room you were actually supposed to wait in seemed to grow smaller by the minute and your bouncy legs were no longer satisfied with walking the same line up and down while waiting impatiently for Geralt and Jaskier to return.

You hadn’t been travelling around with them for long. As the daughter of a common farmer, you would’ve never travelled with them, but there was that little and annoying law of surprise. Once claimed, the law was inevitable. And well, long story short, your father had been saved by Geralt and kind of insisted on the law as repayment. They then parted ways and Geralt said that he’d come to get was is rightly his. A few years later their paths crossed again and Geralt met his child surprise. You.

You quickly jumped up as you saw them in the distance, running towards them. “What happened? And who are they?” you asked curiously, pointing at an old man, you’d later know him as Borch, and his two female warrior companions.

While Geralt gave you an angry look, otherwise completely ignoring you as he passed, Jaskier hooked your arm in his and pulled you with him. “Nothing a kid like you has to be concerned about,” he said as you both followed the others into the tavern, “but there might be a story coming up.”

x-x

And what a story it would be. You were off to a dragon hunt! You couldn’t believe it! And so the race to the mountaintop began. It was actually a rather pleasant adventure if one forgets about the death of that hirikka creature and Sir Eyck. Having other people around you meant that you didn’t have to spend time with Geralt or better, he didn’t have to spend time watching your every move. Jaskier, however, he probably should have.

“We’ll watch each other’s backs until we reach the next peak, then every man for himself. What say ye?” the dwarf leader asked Borch.

“Let’s go.”

“Go on. I’ll catch up,” Geralt said in your direction, but looked solely at Jaskier and then followed the mage called Yennefer.

You had yet to get properly introduced to her, but you’d seen the glances she had thrown you over the camping fire and during your travels. Each time it felt like cold water running over your back and it was as if your blood turned to ice. “Quick question, do we like her?” you asked Jaskier as you watched Geralt walk away, following his instructions and walking behind the dwarfs.

“I don’t.”

x-x

“Yeah, you’re right, this is a shortcut… do death!” Jaskier exclaimed as he leaned slightly around the curve, glancing warily at the wooden pathway.

“We should turn back,” Geralt said behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder, “This is not a place for a little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl!” shaking off his hand you stomped up to Jaskier, following his glance, “I’m not afraid of heights!”

“You heard the girl.” Yennefer grinned and for the first time, her smile was full of warmth and encouragement. The ice in her eyes gone.

“See ya on the other side!” the dwarfs yelled as they passed you and started walking along the floating wooden path.

“Yeah, yeah, yes,” Jaskier mumbled to himself and then turned around to you, “Ladies first then?” But before you could say something Yennefer had already pushed him in front of you, urging him to go on.

Everything that happened afterwards was a blur to you. The adrenalin that rushed through your veins and your beating heart the only memory of the horrible accident. You didn’t see how Borch lost his footing, only heard Jaskier scream. The wooden path vibrated dangerously under you and let him push you against his chest.

“Geralt! The planks won’t hold!” Yennefer shouted as another vibration went through the wood, more planks loosening up under your feet. And then you heard Jaskier gasp and Yennefer sigh sadly.

x-x

You were sitting beside Geralt on the stone, overlooking the beautiful yet tragic view, still shaking due to the aftershock.

“Here,” Jaskier wrapped you in a blanket as he took a seat beside you, stroking your back soothly while he turned to Geralt. “You did your best,” he said in the most calming voice he could muster, “There’s nothing else you could have done.”

The wind blew while he waited for Geralt’s response and his hand left your back to join his other one in his lap, as you heard him breathe out. “Look, why don’t we leave tomorrow? We could head to the coast. Get away for a while. A little bit of sea salt never hurt a child.”

Yet again Geralt didn’t say anything, just kept staring into the distance. You three, probably a very unique looking bunch, stayed there in silence, basking in the last sun rays of the dying sun. Then Geralt stood up without a word, making his way to Yennefer’s tent on top of your own resting place.

“Come on,” Jaskier whispered, embracing you, “Let’s get you to bed.”

x-x

The next morning you were awoken by a bird cry. You were laying back to back with Jaskier, sharing the blankets as it got cold during the night. Heaving yourself into an upright position, you realised that you were alone. “Jask? Jask!” you woke him up, nudging his side, “Where are the other ones?”

Jaskier lifted his head with a snort. “Uh,” blinking he looked around confused, sniffed and sat up as well. Then he stood up, still a little bit stiff from sleeping and walked around the camping site. “Geralt? Dwarfs?”

“Well thank you, I could’ve done that myself.”

“Alright, but thanks to me you see the dwarfs over there though,” he said as he pointed to your left and in the distance, you saw little tiny black dots lined up along a path. 

“They’re not moving though. You sure-”

“Yes, let’s go!”

x-x

You had laughed at the dwarfs as you passed them. “Are we… queuing for something?” Jaskier had asked. The moment you and Jaskier had seen the scene in front of you, you started to run.

“Oh fuck!” Jaskier quickly turned around to you, a shocked expression on his face. “You didn’t hear that from me.”

“Really?! Dead bodies everywhere, an old man fell to his death and that’s what you think about?!”

“I’m panicking, okay?! Let me!”

“Yeah, whatever. What hell happened?”

x-x

A lot, apparently. Not that anybody would tell you, or Jaskier for that matter. You were sitting with him, looking down at Borch, Yennefer and Geralt who were talking about things neither you nor the bard needed to hear.

“What happened?” you asked while you scratched the ground, carving tiny lines into the sandy stone floor.

“Hm? Your guess is as good as mine,” Jaskier stated and looked at you.

“No, I mean way back then. How... Why did Geralt save my father’s life?”

“Oh… well, that’s a funny story actually,” Jaskier chuckled embarrassed and scratched the back of his head, clearing his throat.

“How could we ever know?” Yennefer then asked loudly as she stood up which made you and Jaskier snap your heads towards them. “Disregard for other’s freedom has become quite your trademark.”

You couldn’t make up what Geralt answered, but it obviously didn’t help as Yennefer angrily shouted, “I didn’t need your help!”

“Like fuck you didn’t!”

“There, say you heard him from him,” Jaskier mumbled beside you and you punched his shoulder, “Ouch.”

“And you, you flit about like a tornado, wreaking havoc, and for what? So you can have a baby?” Geralt's words made you both look down to them again. “A child is no way to boost your fragile ego, Yen. I would know! I have one now!”

She scoffed. “I’ll take advice from you about children as soon as you take responsibility for the one you bound to you and then abandoned!”

“Abandoned? She’s here, isn’t she?”

“Are you really sure about that? I haven't seen you talk to her once these past few days. If I didn't know better, I'd say she belonged to the bard,” Yennefer said, already walking up the slope you and Jaskier were sitting on. As she passed you, she threw you a pleading look. Run as long as you still can.

Meanwhile, Jaskier had stood up and had made his way downwards to Geralt. You stood up as well but kept your distance. Unsure if you wanted to walk after Yennefer, who was making her way back or stay behind for Jaskier.

“Phew! What a day!” Jaskier tried to lighten up the mood with a chuckle, “I imagine you’re probably-”

“Damn it, Jaskier!” Geralt suddenly screamed, making you flinch as his voice even reached you in full force. “Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it's you shovelling it?!”

“Well, that's not fair-”

“The Child Surprise, the djinn, all of it! If you hadn’t run into that stupid ambush and dragged the farmer with you, he would have never been able to burden the law of surprise upon me! All I wanted was to save your ass and now look at this! If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands! And you know what? The child too! Because I'd rather use my child surprise as bruxa bait but that’s not going to happen as we’re bound by destiny!”

It felt as if you were back on the wooden path, the planks breaking under your feet as you plunged into unknown depths. It shouldn't hurt that much. You knew it, it was as clear as the morning sky that Geralt had never liked the thought of you. You were a burden he had picked up during his travels but never welcomed like Jaskier.

Your legs were moving without your consent, carrying you away from Geralt, away from Jaskier, away from the last piece of life you had. What were you now, an orphan? You parents didn’t die, but you wouldn’t be able to go back to them, you couldn’t run from your destiny. Could you?

“You could come with me, you know?” Her voice was soft, even caring as she appeared by your side. Or where you fast enough to catch up with her?

Your mind was racing, your view blurry with the tears that had found their ways into your eyes. You wiped them away, sniffled and looked up into the face of the mage. Her smile was warm and inviting. “You might not be my child surprise, but seeing as we both are bound unwillingly to that witcher, we might as well stick together, right?”

[arzani-fuchsia]

Shit episode 6 of the witcher still fucks me up, honestly. There is so much heartbreak in it.

I have to focus on the obvious part first. I think when Borch, Tea and Vea fell down and were believed dead it was when Jaskier realized he loved Geralt. Not as a friend or a companion but really loved him. And honestly it took the man a really long time to find out. But it was in him, before. Jaskier started writing Her sweet kiss before that. But I think it was when he really realized it. Because it showed him that he could lose Geralt any second. That despite being a witcher, Geralt wasn’t immortal. Could die, anytime. Jaskier is a jolly man. I think he forgot it over the decades he spent with Geralt always coming out of things more or less unharmed.

And then he sits there with him, talking about what pleases him in life ... and Geralt thinks he is composing his next song. This was the moment Jaskier decided to keep his mouth shut about his feelings. Probably even more when Geralt went to Yennefer straight after that conversation. Because while Jaskier realized he’s in love with Geralt, Geralt realized he’s in love with Yennefer. And Yennefer glows in the admission. The way she looked so happy when Geralt told her she’s important to him... I think it was the first time we saw her truely smile.

And then the rest of the episode happens and Borch indirectly tells Yennefer about the wish. He said “I realize why he didn’t want to lose you”. So was that Geralt’s wish. To not lose her? I’m still not sure what exactely the wish was but I still doubt it was to bound them together, rather than keep Yen alive. Because while they obviously have feelings for each other, Yen is still able to walk away and rather dramatically so.

And then we have Jaskier seeing Geralt’s heart break and while he must feel ... so much. He knows he can never compete to Yennefer, he still wants to stay at Geralt’s side, lift his spirits. He himself is broken, being left behind (even before Geralt send him away Jaskier was left behind and mustn’t that sting) and then when he wants to lift the spirits he is yelled at and send away. And I am still so angry at Geralt. So fucking angry, for destroying this relationship and not thinking about his words. Like he thinks that he can toy with Jaskier because the bard will come back anyway. And this time he doesn’t and I know I’m petty but I hope it hurts I hope it hurts Geralt so fucking much that he realizes what a friend (or not friend, family maybe) he has in Jaskier now that he’s no longer at his side and I hope he grovels and makes up for it. And yeah I’m bitter about it because Jaskier was so hurt he didn’t even bite back. He just ... left. With all his heartbreak and the unfairness of it all. Geralt you stupid idiot.

Okay, so this is out.

A few things I found interesting about this episode and didn’t catch the first time is the hint to the timeline. Nilfgaard gets stronger, they talk about it whilte sitting around the fire at the dragon hunt. This is one thing.

Then, did anyone realize that in Ciri’s timeline she is reminded to ask the right questions (and she does thank god), while meanwhile Jaskier is the one in their timeline to ask the right questions as well. He asks Tea and Vea why they follow Borch and they say it’s an honor to fight by his side. And Jaskier asks “why?”. They say because he is the most beautiful. Of course they didn’t mean Borch in human form but the golden dragon. While Jaskier doesn’t realize himself what that means it gives the watchful eye a clue. Jaskier isn’t stupid. He indeed asks the right questions, noticing things others don’t.

I said it once I say it again. Jaskier becomes interesting when he stops speaking and listens. That is when he has his deep moments and that is what others do not realize. Not even Geralt who should know him. There is such a deep cut between how good Jaskier and Geralt know each other. Jaskier realizes Geralt’s feelings, his heartbreak, his longing for Yen and even manages to write a song about it. Geralt has no clue about Jaskier. Because he doesn’t see him in his silence, too distracted by his words and Yennefer. It’s sad, really.

On the Ciri timeline. I love how we see how the girl grows up. She is so young but with help she realizes what she has to do to survive. She asks the right questions, sees she is in danger and speaks her mind, even though it means losing Dora. And wasn’t that heartbreaking as well. he was all of family Ciri has left and she lost it. All of them are alone at this point of time and I probably have to watch the next episode now just to shake that feeling off.

Oh, another thing: Jaskier said his full name, when Geralt introduced himself to the dwarf and Jaskier tried as well. Julian Alfred Pankratz. I really didn’t quite catch this one the first time.

And the way the songs reflect each other, bind scenes together is interesting. Renfri’s theme becomes Yen and Geralt’s theme suddenly. Her sweet kiss plays when Geralt and Yen meet in her tent. A song about heartbreak when the heartbreak isn’t even there yet. And if that’s not a statement I don’t know what is.

[lesdemonium]

1 and 11? Also I really liked the mom and the kids, and the baby was so cute and small. The dad was a little strange, but he also came down to hurriedly ask me some questions while he was working, so like I kind of get it. ☀️

sorry this took so long! i got it like right before i went to bed, and it’s hard to link things from my phone. but i’m so happy to hear that!! i hope it all works out and that it’s a good fit!!

1.  are there any fics that you wanted to leave multiple kudos for, and were disappointed when you could only leave one?

the power to cancel his captivity - by kageygirl

"Thrown out already?" Geralt asks, and sees the bard shaking his head from the corner of his eye.

"Hardly! But a wise bard knows when to leave the audience wanting more."

"I've never met one."

"One what?"

"A wise bard," he says, and glances over to see the bard's mouth flapping indignantly.

"I -- am going to let that go, because you're right, where are my manners." He ducks in front of Geralt as they step onto solid ground, forcing him to halt, and gives him a bow, no less graceful for being quickly executed. "Jaskier, troubadour, poet -- and barker -- at your service."

__________________________________

Geralt assumes the bard will wander away of his own accord. Eventually.

It takes a while to realize that's the last thing he wants.

julian - by vands88

Inspired by Spencer B’s ballet AU

Jaskier was a child prodigy who burned out before he was sixteen. Now he's going from job to job with no aim in life until he meets Geralt Rivia - the famously strong ballet dancer who has also fallen from grace after an accident that he still blames himself for.

Geralt sees a potential dance partner in Jaskier and maybe even a chance for redemption. Jaskier, meanwhile, just wants to get laid.

bright smiles and tired eyes - by wickedwitchcraft

Modern Au, Punk!Jaskier, Siren!Jaskier. Geralt needs a new roommate to help him pay rent. Jaskier answers his ad. Through a handful of circumstances and series of events… there’s bed sharing. And some angst. ...lots of angst, apparently.

comply - by queen of all corgis

“This drink, the mage made it. It is going to make you a good boy,” she brushed back his hair, too long nails trailing along his cheek. “But you cannot tell anyone. You cannot tell a soul about this drink or this spell. You don’t talk about it. You keep it secret.”

Julian opened his mouth to ask more and was hit by a pain he had never experienced. The boy cried out in pain and doubled over, arm wrapping around his screaming middle. His mother shushed him and pet at him until he was able to catch his breath.

“See what happens to naughty little boys who don’t listen?” Her voice was sharp. “I told you not to say anything.”

--

Jaskier was cursed with obedience as a child and has mostly learned to get by without others knowing. Geralt is not most people.

like glitter and gold - by beelieve

Everyone is more in Ard Carraigh: more beautiful, more tempting. Whatever one wants, the magic grants. Geralt could break through the glamour’s hold, should he so wish, but he knows the spell also protects him from the scrutiny of the other guests. They cannot see him truly bare. One look at his scars and his mutations—his faults—and it’s over. He dares not risk any suspicion regarding his place here. No, the magic will hold—he'll make sure of it.

(Or: Geralt attends a masquerade and catches feelings. AKA, the ten thousandth Witcher orgy fic nobody asked for.)

unseen - by nervawkward

Here, now, time holds no meaning for him. He exists only in this moment: an arrow let loose with careless fingers, hoping for a target. He cannot stop. Lungs heaving, thighs burning with strain, he cannot stop. Stop and he will be caught. Be caught and he might as well die. He has not fought this long and this hard to die now.

After the mountain, Jaskier is captured and experimented on by a Mage of Nilfgaard. Somehow, he escapes. Now if only he could bring himself to believe it.

time on my hands could be spent with you - by elegantwings

Yennefer laughs long and hard. “Darling, if Jaskier and I lived together for more than a week, they’d find our corpses clinging to the same scarf.” Geralt agrees with her but says nothing. “I think he should stay with you.”

“Yenn,” he growls.

“Oh come on, Geralt,” she sighs, “You can’t stay mad at him forever. And he needs somewhere to stay, you know he hasn’t lived anywhere long enough to even have an apartment in years. He gets on well with Ciri, and it’s just for two weeks. What’s the harm?”

The harm is, of course, that he hadn’t even apologized yet for that damn video. “Fine,” he says, instead of admitting it. “But I’m kicking him out if he pisses me off.”

***

When the stay-at-home order starts, Jaskier needs a place to stay, and Geralt just so happens to have a guest bedroom, and he gets along with Ciri, and there's no logical reason to turn him away. So Geralt swallows his pride, and pretends that everything is fine, and that Jaskier doesn't keep openly mocking him with each song he releases. Two weeks will pass in no time, and they probably won't even see each other. Probably.

there are DEFINITELY more, these were just the ones most easily accessible to me bc i either bookmarked them or subscribed to them. but all of these are AMAZING and i LOVE THEM.

11: ever read guilty pleasure fics?

ohhhh yes absolutely but bc they are guilty pleasure i’d uh.... rather not say what fics they were LMAO.

[jaskiersvalley]

Forever Yours

@alwenarin​ You cannot leave this in the comments and not expect me to be inspired! This will also beautifully fill the ‘whump’ square on my bingo card for a discord server. So thank you!

CW: Witcher Trials

Winter was upon them and Eskel couldn’t leave Cahir behind. Over the last couple of months they’d quite grown on each other. Sure, it wasn’t always easy, the first time Cahir lost his temper at having to once again leave town without pay or rest, it hadn’t been pretty. He’d raged, Eskel had to all but bodily haul him away from the line of pitchforks. Looking back on it, the memory was quite bittersweet because Eskel hadn’t had someone so up in arms on his behalf before. Nobody defended a witcher. Well, Geralt’s bard did but he was a rarity. And now Eskel had his own bottled lightning in the form of Cahir.

“I know I’ve said it before-” Eskel sighed. They were in the last tavern before climbing the mountain to Kaer Morhen. “-but Kaer Morhen is a bit of a mixed bag.”

“I know,” Cahir echoed back and stole a parsnip from Eskel’s plate. “Lambert’s a dick, he may have Aiden with him who is an enabler of the worst kind. Geralt will grunt, Jaskier will sing, Ciri will challenge anyone to a fight and Vesemir is the long suffering father figure. We’re been over this a lot.”

At least Eskel’s jaw snapped shut and he looked down in embarrassment. He knew he was fussing but his family was a lot. More than most people could usually cope with. It took a couple of years before any of his guests ever felt comfortable.

They made the trek over a couple of days and dismounted as they rode into the courtyard.

“Eskel!” A voice greeted them and who was probably Lambert hopped down from a windowsill. “You picked up another one?”

“Shut up Lambert,” Eskel growled but gave his fellow wolf a hug despite his scowl.

“Another what?” Cahir demanded, not quite sure what it could mean.

A voice from behind him almost purred. “Another pet project. I’ve heard about them over the years. I’m Aiden.” Shaking the offered hand, Cahir looked the man over. Witcher, no mistaking that but of a different ilk to the wolves. “Why don’t I show you around while Eskel catches up with his family?”

One solid, warm hand grabbed Cahir by the shoulder and Eskel looked looming next to him.

“He’ll come with me.”

“Oh I bet I will!” Aiden winked and Lambert brayed. The two of them took off, hollering for the whole keep to hear about the fact Eskel wasn’t alone.

Just like the warnings, Cahir found that Lambert was indeed an insufferable arse who was absolutely egged on by Lambert. Geralt had taken one look at him and grunted, Jaskier was chattier than all the witchers combined. However, the biggest surprise was Ciri. She had taken one look at Cahir, gasped and ran to him.

“I’ve seen you in my dreams!”

That wasn’t ominous at all. It also led to a long discussion where Geralt looked more constipated than ever before. They’d thought Ciri’s dreams had been under control but it turned out they changed to less distressing.

“He used to be covered in blood. Now he just has yellow eyes.”

The table erupted in murmurs and arguments then, whether the dreams were literal or if they were symbolic. After all, Cahir’s eyes were most definitely not yellow, not in any light.

A boon of the discussion that lasted for days was that the teasing had stopped. Cahir had been able to gather that he wasn’t the first companion Eskel had brought home. Not by a long shot. He always seemed to pick up strays, broken people scattered along his Path. And every single time he was helpless to resist. All he offered was a helping hand, to be a crutch until his newfound companion was ready to stand on their own feet. Or they died in his arms. No matter what, it always ended with Eskel’s already bruised heart shattering a little more. The others thought him foolish for putting his heart on the line so often. Lambert had found another witcher as a companion. Meanwhile, Geralt had a sorceress and a powerful child surprise who were both quite attached to their bard. There was no doubt that Jaskier would enjoy a lifespan longer than that of an average human. But Eskel? He had Cahir, a regular human and they didn’t have powerful friends. They all knew that this was borrowed happiness they were living with.

While the others were all hung up on Ciri and her dreams, trying to tease them into something meaningful, Cahir sat back and mulled things over. He’d found happiness. After everything that had happened, he found he wasn’t prepared to let it go. Cahir wanted more than a blink of an eye with Eskel. So he started trying to find a way, any way to extend that time. He trained with the witchers each morning, learning from them but also teaching them tricks that he’d picked up in the army. When he wasn’t dripping sweat and getting bruised to the point of looking like a dropped peach, he was in the library, studying. Two heads were better than one, Cahir was determined to be useful on the road with Eskel.

It was in the library that Jaskier found him, looking a little hesitant.

“Nilfgaard is still looking for you. They’ve doubled the price on your head.”

“And how would you know that when we’re all cut off from the world at large?” Not that Cahir had anything against Jaskier but he was dubious about how he could possibly hear about new information when so isolated.

He didn’t expect Jaskier to flop into a seat next to him with a scowl.

“As one intelligence officer to another, I won’t reveal my methods but I’ll share what’s relevant to you.”

A little irked, Cahir sniffed. “Ex-intelligence officer. My loyalties are to Eskel and his family, not Nilfgaard.”

If anything, it seemed to make Jaskier nod. “You’re just like them. A witcher in everything but body. You’re a good fit for Eskel.”

With that, he got up again, deciding he had had enough of sitting still. The damage had been done though and Cahir’s mind was working overtime. Jaskier had hit the nail on the head so to speak and an idea was blossoming in Cahir’s mind. He mulled it over until dinner. When everyone was quietly eating, he didn’t clear his throat, didn’t set his utensils aside with purpose. Instead, as if asking someone to pass the salt, he said, “I want to do the trials.”

Though it was quiet before, an absolute silence engulfed the room. The witchers all stared at him dumbfounded.

“No. Absolutely not.” Eskel looked as close to panic as a witcher could.

“We said we’ll never force the trials on anyone ever again,” Vesemir added, looked at Cahir gravely.

“Then it’s just as well I’m asking. You’re not forcing.”

It was Lambert who whistled and shook his head. “We knew you were batshit but this is a whole new level. You don’t want to do the trials, trust me.”

“Yeah, you really don’t.” It was the most sombre Aiden had even looked. If Cahir had to guess, he looked harrowed and haunted.

Nobody seemed keen on Cahir’s idea. Even as he outlined that he wanted to try, knew the outcomes and possibilities. But if he wanted to have a chance at Eskel’s side for more than a passing moment, he needed this.

It caused several heated arguments between him and Eskel. NIghts where Eskel held him close to his chest and buried his nose in Cahir’s hair. There were no tears but they both knew if Eskel could have, he would have sobbed.

“I can’t lose you. Not like this,” Eskel whispered.

“Would you rather lose me on the path? Watch me bleed out when we weren’t quick enough? Blame yourself for my death?” It was a low blow but Cahir could steep lower. “When Nilfgaard catches up with us, they won’t hesitate to take me. At least as a witcher I’ll have a fighting chance at defending myself.”

“But I can protect you!” Eskel wasn’t giving up on the notion. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, but I want to.”

The battle was won. With Eskel on his side, it was a matter of time before Vesemir acquiesced. All the knowledge was still in the library, the parts that were destroyed, he still remembered. Fencing instructor or not, he was a Master at the keep and so knew the ins and outs as well as anyone else.

“We only ever did this to boys who were more resilient than adults. They didn’t bounce back. There’s no telling what this will do to you.” The warning was meant well but Cahir shrugged it off. He watched as the potions were brewed.

One last night before they administered the concoctions. Eskel didn’t sleep at all, neither did Cahir. They were wrapped around each other, wordlessly clinging. Both of them knew the risks, the likeliest outcome but Cahir was set. This was his choice and if he died, that would be on him. There was no way Eskel could take on the guilt of his death too.

There was no point in eating breakfast, Lambert had cheerily informed him he would only throw it up and choke so Cahir sat with the others while they ate. It was silent in a way it hadn’t been before, more like a wake than breakfast. Once everyone was done, Jaskier stayed behind with Ciri while the others walked down to the old laboratories. There was a bed set up with straps.

Nobody needed to prompt Cahir, he stripped out of his clothes until down to his underwear. He stepped forward and Eskel’s hand on his chest stopped him.

“Are you sure?” There was a silent pleading to in his voice, begging Cahir to reconsider. “It’s okay to change your mind.”

“I want this. I want the chance of a life with you. Your lifetime, not mine.”

It was Geralt who strapped him down, surprisingly gentle. Wrists, forearms, biceps, chest, hips, thigh, shins and ankles. Last but not least, a strap went around Cahir’s forehead.

“One more thing,” Lambert stepped up and he fed a strap under Cahir’s neck. “Open up.”

The thickest part of the leather was placed between Cahir’s teeth and buckled against his cheek. One last squeeze to his hand from Eskel and they all stepped back as Vesemir approached, needle in hand. The prick of it wasn’t pleasant but Cahir had had worse. He’d been tortured by Nilfgaard. This couldn’t be worse. Except he could feel the burn of the potion up his arm and he couldn’t jerk away from it. The straps held him tight as the burn consumed him, flowed through his veins. Everything around Cahir stopped existing except for the pain. It was unrelenting, melting his bones, deafening him. The bite of the straps into his skin paled in comparison. He didn’t know if his throat worked anymore or if he stopped being able to scream.

Unfortunately, the witchers bearing witness to it all knew Cahir could scream. They heard every cry, wretched moan, watched as the straps rubbed his skin raw, dug into the flesh. Eskel couldn’t bear it. He fled up the stairs, trying to block the sounds out. There was no escaping them though, just like as a child, each time the trials were administered, the whole keep echoed with screams.

“It’s okay.” A hand on his shoulder drew him back into the present and Jaskier offered him a wisp of a smile. “He’s a tough bastard.”

Tough or not, it didn’t prevent the screams from taking up residence as the soundtrack to Eskel’s newest nightmares. It was even worse when they bubbled off into pained groans and breathless gasps. The potions helped dance a fine line between life and death, reshaping its victim into something barely human.

It was a peak followed by a lull. If only one potion had been enough but it was multiple dosages of different poisons. One by one, the younger witchers rotated out of the lab, needing a break to deal with the memories it was all bringing back. Even Vesemir needed a break. Eskel couldn’t bring himself to go back down, too terrified to see the results of the potions on Cahir. He couldn’t bring himself to go down and see a broken, lifeless body. Already, Geralt had told him that Cahir had managed to dislocate joints despite the straps, that bruises littered his body along with everything else pain wrung from his body.

“It is done,” Vesemir announced. “The last potion has been administered.”

Which meant another six hours for it to burn through Cahir before they could start to hope that he had pulled through.

“I’ll sit with him,” Jaskier offered. “You all go relax. Let me deal with this.”

It gave the witchers an excuse not to have to deal with a body if Cahir didn’t make it. They didn’t need that kind of guilt on their conscience. Well, they’d know their trials killed Cahir but they wouldn’t have the physical memory of having to carry one more of theirs to a pyre. It was the least Jaskier could do.

He walked down into the lab and tried not the gag at the stench of urine, vomit and who knew what else. Cahir twitched and trembled on the bed, looking worn ragged. At least he was moving, his chest heaving breaths slowly and shuddering on each one. Settling in, Jaskier waited until the worse of it had passed before slowly undoing the straps. Cahir didn’t move once. It was getting a little unnerving and Jaskier had to really pay attention to see each breath, heartbeat slower than a human’s so the pulse he tried to feel in a wrist was thready and sparse.

Jaskier almost missed the way Cahir rolled to his side, panting softly. Dry heaving, he shivered and cried out weakly. Immediately, Jaskier was up.

“You’re okay. The worst is over.” He tried to reassure and pulled a light throw over Cahir. It got kicked off with a disoriented moan. Of course, Jaskier realised, witcher senses were heightened. So probably everything was too much for Cahir in that moment. Walking around to crouch by Cahir’s head, Jaskier swept sweaty, lanky hair from his face. “Was it worth it?”

Behind Jaskier, the air shifted and he knew Eskel stood behind him. It was confirmed when Cahir opened his eyes and fixed his newly yellow gaze on the figure behind Jaskier.

“Yes.

[jaskiersvalley]

I love reading your writing! I have gone through your blog and read every post and I can’t get enough. I always get so excited when I see you’ve posted something new. You are a true delight! I hope you’re staying safe and healthy during this frightening time ❤️ Much love and good vibes to you!

Much love and good vibes right back at you, Nonnie! Here’s to hoping you and your loved ones are also staying safe and healthy, it truly is a frightening time. Personally, I find great solace in the fandom family I’ve found myself, be that people I chat to, people whose names crop up regularly or anons who send it asks. To be able to give back a little in the form of ficlets is one of my crutches at the moment. With that in mind, have a slightly more unusual ficlet because It’s not just Geraskier but there’s also a Ciri and a Cahir in this one.

Content warning for major character injury, discussions of death and discussion of mercy killing. But! It is a happy ending where everybody lives!

Kaer Morhen was still a little way away and they knew that there were soldiers hot on their heels. Cahir had warned them that they had to keep moving because Nilfgaard would be relentless. They were due to meet up with Yennefer later on, she had business to attend to. So it was just Geralt, Cahir and Jaskier trying to protect Ciri on their way to safety.

The attack came when Geralt was on watch duty. A group of eight soldiers had stumbled upon their camp and within seconds it had descended into chaos. While Jaskier was trying to bundle Ciri onto Roach, the other two were wielding their swords and trying to ward off the attack. One of the soldiers melted from the shadows too close to Roach and she spooked, kicking up. In the madness that was the fight, another voice crying out in pain and the crunch of bone was easily lost.

When everything fell silent again, there was the sound of ragged breathing and Geralt cursing as he spotted Roach, still tethered to a tree while Cahir methodically went through the soldiers, making sure they were all dead. Which just left Jaskier unaccounted for. An igni set the camp fire ablaze again and Geralt stepped over a soldier’s body to pull Ciri off Roach. By his feet was a familiar looking figure, still breathing but unconscious.

“Cahir!”

It was all a bit of a blur after that. Ciri was settled on one side of the fire before Geralt and Cahir dragged Jaskier opposite her. The flames hid most of their work from her sight but there were murmurs and hisses she couldn’t miss. Bitten off “is that-” “bone, yeah” and “just as well he’s passed out” along with “this needs a healer” to which the angered “well he’s all we’ve got” didn’t inspire much confidence. Ciri didn’t miss the whimper which turned into a full on cry of pain as Jaskier came round. A blanket was pulled over him before Ciri was allowed to see him. It didn’t do much to hide the way one leg was awkwardly twisted under it. She held his hand until her eyes couldn’t stay open anymore and strong arms carried her to her own bed roll.

“How bad’s the damage?” Jaskier asked when it had been too quiet for too long.

“Bad.” There was no mincing words from Cahir while Geralt tried to hum it off. “You’re not walking on that. Even carrying you is out of the question.”

The soft “I see” from Jaskier was one that meant he knew what that meant. He wasn’t even a liability anymore, he was an anchor. Unable to move or be moved from the camp, they couldn’t afford who knew how many weeks in one place while he healed. Even if he did heal, his leg would never be the same, he couldn’t travel with the others. “Could I have one more night please? I trust you both to make it quick, but I don’t want Ciri seeing me with my throat slit.”

“Geralt will take Ciri at first light. I’ll catch up with them.” Cahir replied. “I can make it quick and relatively painless.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier’s voice was strained from tears he was holding back. He reached for Geralt’s hand, pulled it to his cheek and took a shuddering breath as he tried to find some comfort. “You’ll be fine without me, you don’t need me singing songs for you anymore.”

“I never did,” Geralt replied, gruff as ever but his hand was gentle, the tender touch filled with love and words he could never quite express. Not in company at least.

“I’ll go check on Ciri,” Cahir announced and moved to the far side of the camp to give them as much space as possible. He could still hear the rumbles of “I’m sorry” and “I love you” that hurt more than he would be willing to admit. Over time, he’d grown fond of Jaskier and Geralt, appreciated the quiet love that was unshakeable between them. And he’d considered Jaskier a friend after a rocky start. For this to be the end was a bitter blow.

None of them slept that night and both Jaskier’s and Geralt’s eyes were red from crying but their cheeks were dry by the time they needed to wake Ciri.

“We’ll make a head start,” Geralt told her and put her up on Roach while he shouldered a couple of bags. He cast one more look at Jaskier, who had developed a fever overnight on top of his shattered leg. It really was kinder this way but Geralt couldn’t stop his breath from hitching at the soft, sad smile and the mouthed “I love you” sent his way. With one last nod and a look to Cahir, silently pleading to make it swift, he turned at started leading Roach.

They weren’t far when Ciri’s questions started up. “Why are you carrying Jaskier’s bag?”

She wasn’t to know that overnight they had rearranged their packs, knowing that Jaskier’s pack was sturdier and less worn than Geralt’s old one. It made sense that they would redistribute resources and take only the best with them.

“Jaskier’s not coming with us, is he?”

“No.” Geralt kept looking forward, hoping Ciri would drop the issue. She didn’t need to know what was happening.

“What will happen to him? Is Cahir staying with him?”

And Geralt couldn’t lie about that. He knew Ciri would have to find out but he wanted to soften the blow as much as possible. “Cahir will join us shortly.”

Desperately, Geralt hoped that would be enough, that Ciri’s curiosity would be satiated and he could just grieve in peace for a while.

“But that will leave Jaskier alone. And he’s hurt. And you’ve got his pack.” He could hear Ciri putting it all together, her voice rising steadily in a panic. “Turn around! We can’t leave him! Geralt!”

Hand tightening on Roach’s reins, he trudge on and tried not to break. Thinking about Jaskier hurt and Ciri having a meltdown over it wasn’t making it any better.

“Take me back!” Ciri screamed, voice shrill. Her “now” was lost in a high pitched shriek that went on and on. Around them the forest shook under her unbridled power, Geralt couldn’t step forward so matter how much he tried and Roach whinnied in distress.

Finally, the scream died down but Geralt didn’t move. They were far enough away from camp now, Ciri wouldn’t be able to see or hear anything so it was fine. Sure enough, there was the sound of someone approaching. Cahir stepped out from between some trees, eye damp and hands up. Behind him was Triss, pointing a sword at his back.

“What the-?” Geralt murmured.

“We heard the disturbance in Chaos and came. Your Child Surprise has caused quite the stir.” Triss said. “Imagine our astonishment at finding this rat preparing to slit your bard’s throat.”

A small, horrified gasp from Ciri had Geralt closing his eyes. She wasn’t meant to know. Even worse, she was going to find out he had been complicit in it. “I know,” he growled. “We had a discussion.”

And what a pain laden talk that had been. Confessions of words they’d wished they had more time to explore but at least they had been granted the mercy of a few hours rather than a lifetime of regret at never being able to say them.

“Yes, well,” Yennefer stepped through a portal next to Triss. “Lucky for him, we heard Ciri’s screeching. He’s being healed up as we speak, you can have him back next week. Meanwhile, you can enjoy Aretuza’s hospitality. We have created a safe space for you all to hide in until you’re all well enough to leave for Kaer Morhen again.”

Two portals opened up. One to a warm looking room with food on the table and a fire with an abundance of throws in front of it. Triss ushered Cahir through it and took Ciri, along with Roach. Next to it was another portal to a more spartan looking room, more akin to that of a healer’s work space. There was somebody lying in a cot and breathing softly as though in a deep, healing sleep. Without hesitation, Geralt stepped through that one, relieved to have been granted more than just a few hours. He and Jaskier had a lot more to say to each other and suddenly, they had a lot more time.