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freetheworms · 2 years

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okay so i’ve had this weird Geraskier trucker AU stuck in my head for a while and i just don’t know if i’ll ever get around to writing it properly, so instead i have compiled my headcanons!

(this got super fucking long somehow, so most of it is under the cut)

so Geralt is a long-haul trucker for a small, family owned company called Witchers Express Transportation (WET for short. haha)

of course it’s his family that owns it. Vesemir started it years ago back in their small town of Kaer Moren as something he could pass onto his boys, and to be honest, they all kind of enjoy the travel and a little solitude, although none as much as Geralt

Geralt truck is black with a wolf emblem on the side, because of course it is. Lambert’s is red with flames on it because he loves to fuck around and also i make the rules. Eskel’s truck is forest green because i just think that’s nice. Coën’s is grey (with flames because Lambert insisted he needed to “spice it up.”) Vesemir mostly stays at HQ and handles orders now, but his old truck was also black. none of that matters but it’s important to me that you know this

Geralt also has a black cat that travels with him in the cab of his truck like those adorable dudes on tiktok. i’ll give you one guess at her name ((it’s Roach. duh))

anyway. Geralt is out on some cross-continent haul, and pulls into a truck stop in Posada one evening, cause y’know. a man’s gotta eat. and drink. and sleep (if he’s lucky)

insert bard. i imagine their first meeting is essentially the same as it is in the show, except Jaskier is playing the ukulele instead of the lute because it’s modern times, and a guitar wouldn’t be playable in the truck. i am big brained

eventually Geralt goes to head back on the road once he and Roach are fed and rested, and finds he has a loud, obnoxiously-dressed shadow following him through the parking lot

“hey, so wait. okay wait. what if i, uh, y’know, came with you? like, in your truck?” Jaskier is running away from his stuffy pompous home life, and this big sexy trucker looks like his very climbable ticket

“you don’t even know where i’m going” Geralt is so not having it.

“well, no. i mean. you could tell me? but i don’t really care, as long as it’s not here!”

“i could kill you” Geralt is putting on his scariest face. it is decidedly not working

“nah, don’t buy it. i feel like murderous truckers don’t have kitten companions,” the idiot kid actually winks at him. “so, where are we going?” Jaskier is already climbing into the truck and Geralt, sweet, awkward Geralt, doesn’t want to have to rip him out of it so he just kind of. goes with it, begrudgingly. the kid probably won’t last long cooped up in the tiny cab, anyway

Geralt is very, very wrong.

Jaskier is happy to sit in the truck and look out the windows, commenting on every weird or mildly interesting thing they drive by. he’s also maybe a little too happy to flirt with Geralt at every given opportunity. Geralt definitely, totally, feels no ways about this, why would you even ask that?

Geralt keeps waiting for him to fuck off at one of the truck stops they pull into, but the kid just keeps coming back

if Geralt waits for the bard to finish his set, or his conquests before he drives off, that is definitely not because he likes the company. nope. he just feels bad for the kid, okay? it’s dangerous for a naive little fancy lad out here

oh, also. Geralt’s radio doesn’t work and Jask thinks that’s the most insane thing about this guy. i mean, travelling for weeks on end with nothing but silence and the occasional meow to listen to? absolutely psychopath behaviour. can’t have that.

so Jaskier spends a lot of his time in the passenger seat, composing songs about the various people he’s met on their travels, or about Geralt, and even once about Roach. Geralt pretends to be annoyed when Jaskier plays them in the cab, but secretly he’s realizing maybe he doesn’t miss the silence as much as he thought

Jaskier still gets himself in trouble sleeping with the wrong people at the inns they frequent, and Geralt of course has to be his Big Beefy Backup™️ when the occasional angry husband or wife tries to skin him in the middle of the motel lobby

Geralt is absolutely not jealous of the people Jask sleeps with. he’s not. nope. no, sir. he’s just annoyed at having to rescue him, is all

and if they share a bed half the time, it’s only because motels are expensive and getting two rooms seems like a waste of money. they’re just being smart!

so, they travel together like this for a couple of years; Geralt making deliveries (and excuses for the weird, overly friendly man constantly in his passenger seat) and Jaskier using all this experience to further his meager singer-songwriter career

they do part ways sometimes so Geralt can go back to Kaer Moren, or so Jaskier can try and record one of his now numerous ballads, but they’ve exchanged phone numbers (for safety!) and they somehow always end up coming back together

Jaskier absolutely did not turn on Geralt’s location sharing so he could “happen to turn up” at the same truck stop as his favourite trucker

so, yeah. they do this little dance around each other for almost 10 years before Geralt’s guilt finally gets the better of him on a bad day. he’s kept Jaskier cooped up in his tiny truck for far too long. it’s selfish. Jask deserves to see the world, and not from behind a windshield. he says as much, one day when they’re stopped in some shitty diner parking lot

Jaskier suggests they take some time off the road then, maybe see the coast together?

Geralt insists he can’t just leave his job, and that Jaskier should go on to live his actual life without an old grumpy man weighing him down

Jaskier does not take that well. “i’m the one that asked you if i could travel with you, you big brute! you don’t get to be all self-sacrificing about this!”

Geralt does not take Jaskier not taking it well very well. cue yelling. cue Geralt saying things he doesn’t mean about Jaskier holding up his deliveries with his dilly-dallying at stops. about Jaskier never shutting up and being annoying. about how he wishes he’d never met that stupid kid at the truck stop in Posada.

big “go on! just get outta here you stupid dumb animal!” vibes

cue Mountain Breakup moment. they banter, sure, but Geralt has never actually yelled at him like this. Jask gets out of the truck with a dejected “see you around, Geralt.”

they travel separately for a good few months, almost a year before Geralt starts to think he might go insane in the silence. he even considers fixing his radio, but something about that feels wrong. also he’s a little scared he’ll hear one of Jaskier’s songs play and lose his shit entirely

so eventually Geralt is home at Kaer Moren, moping more than usual, when Eskel somehow notices that Geralt and Jaskier are still sharing locations. Geralt didn’t even know that was a thing you could do??? How long has that been on????

Eskel just gives him this Look and Geralt realizes what he has to do

he sets out to find Jaskier, pinging his phone at some bar just outside Posada

well, thank god he did because he find a tipsy and very scared Jaskier in the back alley, about to get his shit rocked by a group of angry locals whose spouses he probably fucked

Mr. Big Beefy Backup™️ scares the 3 or 4 people off easy enough, but then comes the hard part. time to apologize for being a supreme dickhead, Geralt. go on.

Jaskier is still just standing there in shock because what??? just happened??? why is Geralt here? how is Geralt here? he knows for a fact Geralt would never figure out Jaskier’s location sharing trick on his own; this man can barely figure out how to answer a text.

he’s about to ask when Geralt finally starts speaking

and it’s an apology? from his Geralt?? okay, maybe he’s drunker than he thought

but no, Geralt really is apologizing, and he looks sincere. in fact, he looks downright miserable as he tells Jaskier he never meant any of it, and he’s so sorry he let his guilt get the better of him. says Jaskier didn’t deserve that hurt, and Geralt would never do it again. he’s really trying to be better. he will be better, just please. he just needs his bard back, if he’ll have him

the silence is deafening as Jaskier just stands there, gaping like a fish

he was going to shut Geralt down, at least for a minute. he was. he’s thought about this moment a zillion times, and he really was going to tell Geralt it wasn’t enough, that he’s worth more than that

but Geralt looks genuinely heartbroken and vulnerable in a way Jaskier’s never seen, and he can’t do it. he doesn’t want to.

so Jaskier steels himself and kisses him instead, because for once, he’s at a loss for words. because he’s a little drunk and he’s wanted this for the better part of a decade. because he’s afraid this is the only chance he’ll get

and when Geralt feverishly returns the kiss, Jaskier knows he’ll happily climb right back into that cramped old truck with him. knows there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than with this big, stupid man that he loves. he says as much

and Geralt smiles, actually grins as he says “i love you too, Jaskier”

Jaskier does set some new boundaries and ground rules between them though, because we stan Growth and Knowing Your Worth. luckily, Geralt is more than happy to oblige

and then they drive off into the sunset together to see the coast :)

also, Jaskier has never been more grateful for Geralt’s broken radio. there’s, uhh, no need for Geralt to hear his latest single, Burn Trucker Burn

wow. okay, well at this point i may as well have written the actual fic but Y’KNOW. maybe i will some day. who knows. let me know if uhhh if anyone would want to read it?? validation is my lifeblood and i’m real nervous about posting this for no reason

also, if anyone else for some reason wants to give this stupid AU a go, please for the love of god, tag me! i’d love to read what you come up with :)

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #gerlion #the witcher fanfiction #gracie writes #geraskier headcanon #what else do i tag #i really did not mean to write this much but apprently im passionate about the randomest AU i could think of #it literally came to me while i was laying in bed one night and wouldnt let go #also i forgot to add in ciri but idk how that would work with the whole #‘truck only has two seats and is also a horrible place to raise a child’ thing #sorry ciri... maybe you'll make it into the actual fic someday #anyway i'm obsessed with stupid idiots falling in love in every universe

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adelphiafox2 · 1 year

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We are meant to be

(here is another yandere geralt story, I'm sorry I just love yandere geralt and as I said I don't see a lot of yandere geralt fanfics, maybe you guys have but I haven't so let's get into this)

{you're also a witcher you've always worked alone you did have some help sometimes and you didn't mind the people helping you and you,you also love having people around well sometimes atleast,you also go to some taverns from time to time and you had a lot of fun especially the songs you heard the bards sing,you also love killing beasts and of course you loved the money you get from the people and the honor they give you, although Witchers Don't feel emotions but you always feel emotions like any other person,like you feel anger, sadness, jealousy and most importantly fear,of course you will feel fear when a six to seven beast is standing right in front of you,but you still fight the beast and you win everytime,well not everytime but you do win sometimes, but when you don't kill the beast sometimes the people are nice enough and say how you did your best and some well let's just say they aren't that nice, but what happens when you are just riding your horse to go and find a creature that has been killing a village's sheep's and cows,they offered you a lot of coins so of course you didn't back up on that offer but while you were looking for the beast it attacked you from behind while killing your horse which made you see red,but what if this beast is to strong to fight on your own so you almost got killed but another Witcher helps you and kills the beast in a second,you got a little bruised from the beast so the witcher watched over you,so when you woke up you saw a Witcher who was quite handsome but his presence felt...off but you didn't listen to yourself which was stupid,but what happens when the witcher becomes more and more interested in you but then it turns into.... obsession}

I was walking around the forest trying to find a village or town so I could get some money for me an h/n(horse name) she/he does need a new saddle anyway we also need food for us both,so I am in desperation for money,while I was riding I heard shouting and talking making me gallop over to the village when I got there I slowed h/n down so I could look around the village,I stopped h/n and got off and grabbed h/n's reins and walked over to a pole and tied her reins then I walked over to a woman who was sorting her clothes, "may I know where the master of the town is?" The woman turned to me and then gasped "y-your a witcher" "yes I am now may I know where the master of the town is?" She nodded then pointed to a huge looking house making me smile and thank her then made my way to the house,when I got there I knocked on the door and waited for a bit till someone opened the door, "hello?" Asked a man "hello yes I want to ask if I may speak with your master" "for what causes?" "Well I am witcher and I'm here to help you with any creature" "o-of course I'll be right back" the man then closed the door rather harshly I waited a bit till the door opened again, "come in please" said the man making me nod then I went inside and it was quite fancy and rather homely "wait here" I nodded and watched the man walk away,I looked around and saw something shiny I looked at it and it looked quite beautiful I picked it up and looked at it but then I accidentally broke it making me look around then I quickly put it away and made my way back where I was, "you must be the witcher my butler told me about" I turned to person who said it and saw a man,who had long hair that was pulled back and he was rather well built, "yes, I'm y/n" I said holding out my hand he looked at it and slowly took it, "you a witcher a woman?" I glared at him then I put my hand on my hip and I had a tricky finger to pull out my sword and kill him right there and then, "I'm only joking no worries I find it brave for a woman to fight" I nodded "now I heard you wanted to ask me if we had any monster problems,is that right?" "Yes that's right" "well we have a big one" "how does it look?did it look for anything?did it kill a animal or anyone?" "A lot of questions well, it's very tall dark to and red eyes, well he must've been looking for food and yes it killed five sheep and one grown man" I nodded"how much will I get after killing the beast?" "Well how about one thousand coins" "deal" "you sure just one thousand?I mean that creatures is pretty huge" "okay how about three thousand?" "Good choice,now on you get I'll see you when you bring that beasts head" I nodded then walked out of the house,then I made way to h/n and untied her and we started to ride into the woods.

It turned nightime and I still didn't find the darn beast I sighed but then I heard a branch snap making me grab my sword then I heard a snarl,I then felt something push me off h/n I then heard a pained neigh of a horse and I saw the beast stab h/n making me see red I got up and grabbed my sowrd and swung at the beast,I hit the bloody beast on the arm making him hiss in pain,it slapped me away making me stop from me falling further I glared at the beast, "you're gonna regret killing my horse!" I then charged at the beast and I saw it sent his arm making me dodge it and I stabbed it on his side making it screech in pain then I felt a sharp sting on my back making me hiss I fell to the floor making me drop my sword but I quickly grabbed it again and moved out of the way and I saw the beast hand stuck on the floor giving me a chance to hit it's side again but harder it screeched again and he got his arm free and then threw me away making me grunt in pain,I then hissed in pain as I felt my back hit a tree it made it worse because of the cut of the beast, "curse you beast" I hissed with venom then I looked around for my sword I reached for it but I screamed in pain as I felt the beast stand on my wrist,I quickly reached for my dagger and I got it then I stabbed the beast on the stomach it screeched again then it glared at me then it growled at me then it roared at me but it stopped when I heard a bone cracking noise and then I saw the beast eyes shut then it fell on top of me making me groan and I tried pushing it off but it was way to heavy but I was relived when someone else took the beast off of me,I blinked a few times to get the blurry vision away,I looked up and saw a man with long white hair,he also had yellow eyes and I realised that he was a Witcher, "are you gonna get up or are you going to keep staring?" "Oh,right sorry" I then got up and I smeared off some blood that was on my face I looked at it in disgust and threw it off my hand I then turned to the Witcher, "who are you?" "Why should I tell you?" "Because I asked" he rolled his eyes "it's Geralt" "y/n" I then turned to my left and I saw h/n I sighed and walked over to her/him "you are quite weak for needing help from another Witcher" I ignored him then I I crouched down and touched h/n lightly I laid my head on her/his stomach I then took off her/his saddle and the railings and put it beside her/him I heard the other Witcher sigh "if you need someone to get you somewhere I am more then glad to help you" I looked at him "that would be nice" I said wiping my tears I then grabbed my pouch that had a few coins and some food, I walked over to the witcher and saw he to had a horse of course he would how would he get here I saw him get on then I got on "hold on or you fall either way that's your problem" I sighed and held him by his waist and then he started to ride away "where do you need to go?" "To a village I went to them to get some coins" I saw him groan softly making me glare at the back of his head.

After a while we made it back to the village and It was already morning and I saw everyone working but they stopped as they saw me and geralt I looked away "where off to now?" I pointed to the house where the master lived then I felt geralt ride over to the house and then stopped I got off the horse and went up to the door and knocked on it I waited then it opened and it was the butler but he gasped as he saw me I sighed and looked at the floor he then lightly closed the door making me sigh then it opened again after a few minutes and it was the master of the town his eyes went wide when he saw me "come inside please" I did what he saw and I got inside "did you kill it?" "What do you think?" He looked at the floor "fair enough stay here and let me grab your coins". I saw him walk away making me look at the floor,he came back with a small bag of coins I took it from him and it felt pretty full "thank you" I said "no thank you" I nodded then walked over to the door and opened it and walked out of there closing the door of course, "how much did he give you?" "We made a deal that he'll give me three thousand coins" "I wouldn't have done it for three thousand" "I'm not you now am I?" "Fair" I was about to walk away but he stopped me "where are you going?" "I don't know" "how about you travel with me?" I turned to him "are you sure?" He nodded I then looked at the floor then back at him I sighed then I got on his horse.

Me and Geralt were traveling were traveling with eachother for a month already and I learned that Geralt gets potions to make him stronger,but he only uses them in a intense fight,which I understand,me and Geralt also became great friends and he feels like brother to me that I never had,we also did come across some monsters or bandits but luckily we were together so nothing bad happened to either of us which was good in a way,but I sometimes get a wierd feeling in my gut and my gut tells me to stay away from Geralt or to either run,but I kept ignoring it,I also thought of how I want to live alone and have farm,with lots of farm animals and I told Geralt this and he just groaned like he was always does, I also sometimes get wierd looks from Geralt but I ignored it,I suddenly snapped out of my thoughts by Geralt,"y/n did you even hear me?" I shook my head and looked at Geralt "no sorry what did you ask?" ",Do you think it's a good idea to camp here for the night?" I looked around then I nodded my head "yeah we can camp here" Geralt nodded then he started to get of roach so did i,we then started to get everything, Geralt then went to go and get some fire making me wait for him it's been a while since he went to get the fire wood but he did come back we then lit up the fire while Geralt went to go get wood he also got us some food,after we ate the food,I then decided to go to sleep and Geralt decided to watch over us so no danger came to us,for some reason I couldn't sleep but I don't want to disturb Geralt so I tried to fall asleep but I just couldn't,I suddenly heard Geralt walk over to me making me freeze and I closed my eyes to pretend that I was sleeping,I then felt him move a strand of hair away from my face,it was hard trying to pretend to sleep when someone is crouching over you and it made you quite uncomfortable,I could just feel his gaze on i don't know if it's a killer gaze or something else,I then heard him speak "oh y/n,why would want to leave me?" I remember telling geralt that I want to quit doing hunts and adventurous and just wanted to life my live i wouldn't want to just live my life by just hunting creatures or doing adventures but I never said I'll leave Geralt well I mean I am leaving him because he wants to stick to hunting and adventurous, I'm fine with it but doesn't want me to leave him, "I wish I could just trap you somewhere no one can find" I felt a sudden chill run down my spine,"you've changed me y/n" I suddenly felt something stab my making me turn to get comfortable which scared Geralt because I could hear footsteps I opened my eyes a bit and I saw feet and I knew they were Geralt's feet,"I want you" I'm so confused maybe I'm dreaming, "you really shouldn't be believe me y/n and I know your not sleeping"I quickly reacted and ran away and I heard geralt running after me,I started to run as fast as I can but Geralt was faster then me and I felt him tackle me to the ground and started to scream and struggle, "hold still y/n!" I started to struggle even more I then felt him wrap his arms around my waist and felt him pull me up,I then felt him bury his face in my neck, "we are meant to be y/n" I heard him whisper in my ear and I started to cry, "let's go my love" I then felt him drag me away.

#yandere geralt #geralt x you #tw yandere #imagine

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toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account · 1 year

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i finally watched witcher season 2 (i know) and also finally listened to Ruin (i know 😭 neurodivergent brain doesnt like new content) and ive been thinking about how. i wish there was more of TAD in Jaskier’s songs. like, TAD’s lyrics are so creative and evocative and dramatic. theyre so human and so grand at the same time. and the songs written for Jaskier I feel like are a little commercial? a little predictable. i think Her Sweet Kiss is the one that seems the most like what i’d wish the rest of then were like.

if i remember right Joey is somewhat involved in the writing of Jaskier’s songs and i think MUSICALLY theyre very very pretty songs, but ive wondered if maybe the lyrics are simplified for Mass Consumption and that i wish they could be weirder. :p

As a fellow ND-Brain-Doesn't-Like-New-Content Individual, I toootally get it.

Also, I can see your point about the difference between TAD's music & Jaskier's music, and for me it brings up a kind of interesting point about the Commercial/Mass Consumption thing you mentioned, but not only as something between the show and it's audience, but rather... Jaskier and his own audience in the show?

I mean, Jaskier is a popular bard at this point, and it's his profession as well as his passion, so even though he bases his songs on what he witnesses/gets told about and there's passion behind his songs, he also focuses on what will be popular and reach big audiences (so he doesn't go back to getting bread chucked at him :D). I think it also ties in to him changing the story of Geralt's encounter with the elves in Toss A Coin because "Respect doesn't make history."; he picked what would give the ballad a more inspiring "hero" that would make it more popular than if he'd told the truth about the elves. He's a bard, so he follows his passion in making music, but as a professional bard, he does so while also making it marketable.

Anyway, uh... yeah. I got to thinking about how it could be a mass consumption sort of thing in canon and not just in relation to the irl audience and thought it was kinda interesting :D

#look at me answering asks #what is this late 2021 #answered #the witcher #the amazing devil #jaskier #joey batey

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ericathemad · 3 months

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On my way home from my shop steward training on Saturday (helping build a strong union!), I was listening to my union song playlist on Spotify. And, as Spotify does, it got to the end of the list and started doing it's AI algorithm "similar songs to what you were just listening to".

So I get a folk song and then it starts playing "Toss a Coin to Your Witcher". And I start laughing, but then as I'm singing along I get to thinking. And, holy shit, Jaskier is talking about hazardous working conditions, lack of concern from bosses, and asks for fair compensation for Geralt? I think Spotify is right?

Anyways, "Toss a Coin to Your Witcher" is now on my union songs playlist.

#union strong #toss a coin to your witcher #jaskier is the pete seeger of the continent #fair wages #fair compensation #the witchers need to unionize

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limerental · 2 years

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ficletober day 9 - geralt, yennefer & ciri's huge, weird extended family modern au

Worried for their 13y/o daughter, Geralt and Yennefer call a meeting of their strange extended family of choice.

Contains ensemble found family shenanigans, wholesome family moments, and non-binary Mistle/Ciri

"She's hiding something. And acting different."

"Probably several somethings," said Yennefer. "She's a teenaged girl."

Poor Geralt looked stricken, as though the thought had just occurred to him, despite celebrating Ciri's thirteenth birthday months ago now.

"Now, now, Geralt, it's a perfectly natural phenomenon. She's blossoming into a young woman. She's–"

"Shut it, Jaskier. Who invited him to this meeting anyway?"

"I'm her godfather!"

"Regis is her godfather."

"Right. Well, I'm her fun uncle."

"Naw, sorry, Coen, Eskel, and I have split custody of fun uncle responsibilities," said Lambert.

"Well then I'm… musical accompaniment. Who else would sing her songs by that one popstar she likes?"

"That was years ago," said Yennefer. "These days, she mostly listens to… frankly I wouldn't call it music necessarily."

"Lots of screaming," said Geralt, frowning. "Very angry. That's part of the problem. It's a sign that something isn't right."

Sprawled on the couch, Lambert whistled innocently, as though he was not the most likely subject to have influenced their daughter's unusual music choice.

"She's a teenaged girl, like you said," said Milva, shrugging. "She'll do worse than have questionable music taste. I sure did."

The other women in the strange ensemble gathered in the front room of the Rivia-Vengerberg household offered their agreement. Triss aborted her agreement when she saw the look on Geralt's face, smiling reassuringly and shaking her head instead.

"Have either of you tried talking to the girl about it?" asked Nenneke as she passed around a platter of cookies.

Geralt and Yennefer looked at one another.

"Did you?"

"No, I thought–"

"You called the meeting, I assumed that meant–"

"No, I said 'maybe we should call a meeting' and then you called the meeting."

"Did you ask her–"

"No, I thought you did. That's why I–"

Their back and forth devolved into full-blown petty squabbling.

Eskel and Lambert had started discussing their rival sports teams in what they clearly thought were lowered tones. Cahir scrolled through his phone while Regis watched over his shoulder, announcing to the group's bemusement that he too had a Tiktok where he discussed native flora and had quite the following. Jaskier, grown bored and nosy, fumbled the elegant horse statue on the mantle of the fireplace, which Coen leaned to catch at the last moment. Milva pinched the moon-eyed Triss, who had been staring with blatant envy and sentimental longing at the arguing couple. Triss yelped. Vesemir snorted awake in Geralt's recliner.

Said couple showed no signs of slowing down, their accusations growing more pointed and scathing and increasingly irrelevant to the subject at hand.

Suddenly, the front door burst inward, and young Ciri appeared in the midst of the front room.

She seemed unsurprised to see her entire extended family gathered together, her expression stormy and determined. She held the hand of an individual her own age whose closely-shorn hair was dyed a vibrant pink.

"I don't know why you people have to be so dramatic about everything," Ciri huffed. "This is Mistle. They're my partner. And I don't care if you're disappointed. We'll run away together if you don't like it."

The gathering hushed.

"Disappointed?" asked Geralt.

"Why on earth would we be disappointed?" asked Yennefer.

"Regis said you would be."

All eyes turned to Regis, who smiled innocently.

"Oh yes, I caught these two together last week."

"And you neglected to say anything?"

"And told our daughter we would be disappointed about it?"

"Young Mistle is my neighbor. I often hear that gang of theirs torturing animals in the garage, I'm afraid."

"It's not a gang! It's a band! We're called the Rats."

"Mistle said they might let me join. I can't play an instrument but I'm getting pretty good at screaming."

Jaskier, who had spent many determined hours trying to get young Ciri interested in music, looked aghast. The rest stared in perplexed interest, not saying a word.

"Ciri," said Geralt, shuffling forward to lay a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "We're not disappointed."

"Except maybe disappointed in ourselves," Yennefer corrected as stepped up beside him, "that we made you feel that we would be."

"I only thought… well, Mistle's not a boy, you know."

"Yes," said Yennefer. "And?"

"They're not a girl either."

"And?"

"And they and their friends seem to enjoy torturing rats," said Regis unhelpfully, smiling.

"Mistle," said Yennefer, and the gangly kid holding Ciri's hand tightly straightened up. "You're invited to family dinner tomorrow."

"Mama, neither of you can cook."

"You're invited to family pizza night tomorrow." Yennefer eyed the rest of the family. "None of you are though. This meeting was a disaster. You've been horrendously unhelpful. Especially you, Jaskier."

"What did I do?!"

"You would have done something eventually."

The gathering concluded with a round of hugging and well wishes with Ciri and Mistle at the middle of it all, beaming.

Ciri felt very lucky to have this many people who gave a shit about her well-being. Mistle had two living parents who didn't give a shit about them, and Ciri was fortunate enough to have a whole ensemble. When she said so later that evening, Yennefer chastised her foul language even as she and Geralt grew teary-eyed. They embraced her together, wiping away her own spill of tears.

Ciri felt far less lucky several weeks later when half the family appeared at her very first informal basement performance of her experimental teenaged grunge band bearing video cameras and wolf-whistling.

That their opening act went viral on Tiktok thanks to Uncle Regis' strange following soothed little of the hopeless mortification.

But later, when Mistle wept in her arms and said they'd never felt that kind of love in their whole damn lives, Ciri could feel nothing but warmth and softness and good fortune.

#my fic #yenralt #the witcher #ciri x mistle #ficletober 2022

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dhwty-writes · 1 year

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whatever a sun will always sing - chapter 5

I am terribly sorry, I completely forgot to post this yesterday. Anyways, please enjoy!

Written for the @witcher-bows-and-arrows event.

Read on AO3

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Over a year had come and gone without Geralt seeing his bard again. It wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary, they had spent longer periods of time apart, but—

But.

It wasn’t that he was worried about Jaskier; he knew he could fend for himself and songs and tales of the greatest poet of the Continent were still sprouting like weeds, so he couldn’t be dead. No, it wasn’t fear that gripped his heart, but something else with long, vicious claws that pricked him all the same. He did not know what it was nor dare to examine it.

Yet, the strange feeling accompanied him wherever he went: from Kaer Morhen in the winter, to Toussaint in the summer, over Sodden and Cintra to Cidaris. Whenever he heard one of Jaskier’s songs a strange, ill-gotten wraith appeared to haunt him and remind him of his bard that left his medallion lying still and his body aching.

It was a cool, moonlit night in Cidaris and not quite summer yet, his pockets freshly lined with gold from a lucrative contract and his belly full of food from the Sonatina, when he heard it: the familiar sound of a lute in a tune Jaskier had written years ago. An unbidden smile spread on Geralt’s face as he hurried towards it.

The icy spectre accompanied the sound of his steps, and with it a memory: it was summer many years ago and he and Jaskier were still naked after bathing in a cool stream. Geralt was stretched out on a rock, listening to the peaceful sounds of birdsong and river current around him, and making sure no monsters lurked in the shallow waters Jaskier was dangling his feet into. The bard was plucking away at his lute and humming quietly, though not quietly enough for a witcher to miss it.

When does the sun show its brightest rays?, he sang.

Oh fidelai fidelay

When I am waking by your side

One joyous morn in may.

When have the raindrops the sweetest taste?

Oh fidelai fideley

When I am drowning by your side

One thunderstorm in may.

It was a happy memory, and peaceful, and Geralt remembered thinking he could spend an eternity on that rock.

He was still a couple of paces from the source of the music, when the singing started. Geralt ground to a halt. That was certainly not Jaskier and he couldn’t help but snarl at that. Instead, when he rounded the corner, he saw a lean man who might have been handsome a decade ago, but who didn’t bear the traces of time half as well as his bard. He had crows’ feet around his eyes, a few silver strands in his otherwise golden curls, and wore possibly the ugliest head Geralt had ever seen with a peacock’s feather that reached almost to the floor, presumably to cover up a bald spot. His garb was as garishly extravagant as any of Jaskier’s costumes whenever he stayed in Oxenfurt for too long, but where the one was still lithe and lean beneath his unbuttoned doublets, the other was sporting the beginnings of a beer belly. Currently, the bard was standing on some empty crates, one leg propped up higher than the other, strumming his lute and singing at a woman who looked mildly amused at best:

Where does the end of all my paths lay?

Oh fidelai fidelay

At the porch that brings me to your side

One tender eve in may.

Geralt cleared his throat, but the bard did not appear to notice and instead sang on:

When dawns the day that I will stay?

Oh fidelai fidelay

As long as I can stay at your side

Every morning in may.

By the time he had finished that stanza, Geralt had caught up to him, frowning deeply. ‘That’s not the words to that song,’ he thought bitterly. The woman had noticed him as well and was shooting nervous glances over the singer’s shoulder to the witcher. He cleared his throat again, louder this time.

The lute fell silent with a discordant twang and the bard yelped and fell from his podium. With decades of practice, Geralt deftly caught his instrument before it could come to any harm. “Who are you?” Geralt growled.

“I would very much like to pose the same question, good sir,” the bard said indignantly, lying in the mud. “And I believe I might be owed an answer first, seeing as you startled me so that I unceremoniously fell on my behind. This is toussaintois brocade, I am telling you, and if it is ruined, it is you who will receive the bill, that much I can—”

“Hmm.” Geralt dropped the lute onto the bard’s stomach. Apparently, the verbosity came with the profession, not the Jaskier. “I asked first. Who are you?”

The bard huffed and puffed as he got to his feet, trying to clear his clothes off the worst of the mud and complaining all the while. Geralt listened impatiently, waiting for him to get to the important part. “As for my identity, you have the pleasure and honour to be in the very presence of the one and only Valdo Marx, troubadour of Cidaris.” He took of his hat and bowed with a flourish. “And your name—”

Geralt ignored him. “Never heard of you. Where did you learn that song?”

“Excuse me?” Valdo Marx huffed and straightened himself. “Learn that song? I wrote that song, thank you very much! Can you believe that…” he said with a chuckle and turned to a non-existing audience. The lady he had been serenading was long gone. With a huff he turned back to Geralt: “As I was saying, I wrote that song and anyone who says otherwise is a liar and a cad.”

“Hmm.” Geralt leaned forward, staring at him with intent yellow eyes. “You’re awfully insistent for the rightful composer of this piece.”

Marx raised his chin defiantly, a poorer actor than Jaskier and Geralt didn’t need his smell to see through the facade. “And you’re awfully nosy for a gentleman who will not even tell me his name.”

“That I am,” he agreed and took another step towards him. “I am also a witcher, so I can smell you breaking out in cold sweat like the liar you are.” He showed his teeth in what might have been a smile or might have been a threat. “I’m sure you can guess at who I am. So. How do you know Jaskier? And why are you stealing his songs?”

“I don’t know any Jaskier!” Marx asserted with a nervous chuckle and attempted to duck away from Geralt.

He merely rested a fist against the wall right next to the bard’s face. “Try again,” he growled.

“Okay, fine!” the bard shouted; his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Julian and I are acquaintances from our Oxenfurt days. And I may have taken inspiration from him for a tune or two. But I haven’t seen him in years, I swear! Whatever your quarrel is with him, I assure you, I am a more than pitiful hostage.”

Geralt huffed and took a step away from the man. ‘Pitiful indeed’, he thought as the acrid stink of piss assaulted his senses. He simply said: “His name is Jaskier.” With that he turned around to walk away. This Valdo Marx would definitely be no help in his search.

He was quite a ways away when the bard seemed to regain his bravery to shout: “His name is Julian, just so you know!” He had known that Jaskier hadn’t been born with that name for a long time, but he had never dug any deeper. It was one of their unspoken rules. He snarled as the truth was revealed to him unwillingly: “Whatever he might call himself today, don’t let that fool you. He is Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove and he will leave you soon enough. That’s just the way he is, our little Julek. The moment things get serious, he will drop you like you burned him and vanish.”

Geralt growled. He had so many things he wanted to say to that bastard. How he himself had had many a moniker he didn’t like. How Jaskier was Jaskier if he chose to be. How much better Jaskier was than Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde and how he would call Jaskier even something as ridiculous as that if he wanted him to.

But he said none of that. Instead, he only growled: “Maybe that’s because you deserved it.”

Geralt completed his visit to Cidaris shortly after and glad to turn his back to that wretched city with its wretched bard. Instead, he vowed to go first east, then north: to Novigrad and Oxenfurt where he knew Jaskier liked to spend his time; sometimes the bard even taught a class at the Academy there.

He had almost reached Gors Velen when he finally, finally, heard news from Jaskier. A travelling merchant swore up and down he had seen the famous bard not a fortnight ago. Not to the north, where Geralt had first thought to look for him, but further to the southeast in Maribor. He left post-haste the next morning before the sun had fully risen.

Geralt intended to travel straight to Maribor and continue his search from there, but of course he wasn’t so lucky. He was barely a day’s ride out from the city walls when he heard the cries of a human girl behind him. She was young, barely fourteen years of age, but there was no fear in her eyes when she was staring him down, hands on her hips, and stating, not asking: “You’re the White Wolf. You have to help me.”

“Hmm,” he replied. “Do I?”

“Yes,” she declared defiantly. “There’s a monster in the woods and my dad’s not been home for days. My mum’s died years ago and I’m alone with my two brothers, so I’m a damsel in distress. And the bards say you’re a hero, so you have to help me.”

Geralt ground his teeth and cursed his friend for burdening him with that reputation. Longingly, he glanced down the road that led to Maribor. As much as he wanted to be reunited with his bard, Geralt was still a witcher first. Dutifully, he turned Roach towards around and followed the girl.

The monster in the woods turned out to be a leshen and Geralt found the girl’s father within the day impaled on a tree trunk. He did not know what had compelled the beast to emerge from its own territory, but in the end it hardly mattered, for it could not remain this close to a city such as Maribor.

In the beginning, Geralt assumed it might have left its home because it was young and ignorant of how unsuitable the world was for monsters such as them. That had been his first mistake. It was a large and ancient beast, with wolves and crows circling around it, and the scorchmarks on its trunk told of a fate of more dead humans who had been stupid enough to try and clear the undergrowth of a leshy’s lair, ever hungry for more land.

By the time he slew the last of the wolves, he was exhausted. Perhaps it might have been the prudent thing to do to retreat and rest to regain some of his strength. But that could give it time to gather more beasts as well. And would keep him longer from Jaskier.

Not for the first time, Geralt wished for Eskel’s skill with signs or Lambert’s knack for bombs; the wood was old and wet and rotten and stubbornly refused to catch fire. When it finally did, it did so with a roar as one of its giant arms splintered off and fell.

Geralt screamed.

One of its giant arms splintered off and fell, but just moments before, he had fallen as well.

It splintered off and fell and buried his legs and he could feel those splintering too.

The witcher grit his teeth, splayed his fingers wide and roared and as he did, the flames roared with him. ‘Bastard,’ he thought. ‘If I go, you go with me.’

The leshen swayed for what felt like an eternity, like a burning lighthouse crying for help. Finally, it fell, a mournful sound that nevertheless promised relief.

As the adrenaline subsided, it was replaced by pain. Cursing and hissing, with leaden limbs, Geralt tried to crawl away from the still burning branch on his leg. Flames were now licking up his pants, although leather was slow to burn. Weakly he tried to pat them out, but he could not reach that far.

‘At least the girl and her brothers are safe,’ he tried to tell himself. ‘Perhaps she’ll even meet Jaskier one day, to tell him of my fate.’ But despite his best efforts, the last thing he knew was regret: ‘I should have met him myself.’

A man was swimming in air as thick as water and a sea of cotton bolls obscured his sight. He tried to reach out, a few times, but grew scared when his hand got lost in the fog that had swallowed the world. “Hello?” he would call.

Hello? lo? lo? lo? lo? lo? the fog replied.

“Is anyone there?”

There? ere? ere? ere? ere? ere?

The monster growled and knew it was futile. It was all alone.

Time had no meaning in this world between worlds, so no-one could say how long loneliness lasted – the man staring at the fog in anger, regretting, regretting, regretting something—before he heard a voice.

“-ralt?” ralt? ralt? ralt? ralt? ralt? ”Geralt!”

The voice seemed closer now, the fog almost appeared to clear to reveal a strange blue-and-brown creature that talked too much: “-ank the gods – found you. How—? Geralt!”

Something was touching him – did he have a body to touch? – and a face drifted into view: pale and unscarred with a mop of brown hair and big blue eyes that looked—scared? The faces name was almost close enough to taste, but his tongue wound clumsily around it as he tried to speak: “Jsker?”

“I’m here!” the voice whispered. Ere, ere, ere, ere, ere. ”Everything will be fine.” ine, ine, ine, ine, ine.

And with that the fog closed around him again and loneliness had him once more.

The man drifted in and out of consciousness a few times, though his memories were hazy. He did not know how he had gotten from the clearing where he died to the stiff bed beneath him where two disembodied spirits argued over his corpse.

“—begun to close—” one of the huffed. “—infection too deep!”

The other one snorted at that. “—for my self, thank yo—” His corpse was burning. “—help — who can.”

One of the two spirits returned soon later to quell the flames with an icy tongue that licked his face. “—alright, dear heart,” it whispered. “‘m here.”

Here was a very strange concept for him, for until very recently, he had not had a body to burn. Now, it felt like every nerve within it had been lit on fire. Dimly, he remembered going through worse once, twice before, though not by much.

A mouth opened to sob, but the only sound that escaped was a high-pitched whine and then the icy tongue was licking the face again and liquid snow was poured down the mouth.

Time was another concept that barely existed. The fog could have ebbed and flowed for weeks or months or years and he would not have noticed. He did not care either.

Once, during his clearer moments, he head cursed. “Fucking— stupid kindling, Geralt can light a fire in a rainstorm and — even a measly fireplace.”

He smiled.

He knew that voice.

It meant something. Safety and... something else, but they did not talk about that.

There was music, too. Sometimes, he even knew the tune, but whenever he tried to hum it, he found his throat too dry and another cup of liquid snow was poured down his throat.

When Geralt finally woke, his head still felt like wrapped in cotton and his eyes were heavy like lead. The room he was in seemed warm and bright, the featherbed beneath soft and silky. He could hear a fire crackling in a hearth and the gentle tune of a lute. Someone was humming quietly, though not quietly enough for a witcher to miss it.

Where does the end of all my paths lay?

Oh fidelai fidelay

At the porch that brings me to your side

One tender eve in may.

If I give you a pillow, how long will you stay?

Oh fidelai fidelay

As long as you want to rest by my side

Every morning in may.

Geralt smiled. It was barely summer and Jaskier was sitting on a stool next to him. Stretched out in the bed, Geralt was listening to the peaceful sounds of song and lute around him, and knew when sleep took him again, his dreams would be without regrets.

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier fanfiction #witcher bows and arrows #whatever a sun will always sing #my writing #geralt/jaskier #waswas #valdo marx

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flowercrown-bard · 2 years

Text

if it all can be stolen away

part 1 / part 2 AO3

word count: 5434

Chapter 3/5 - A Song so Beautiful/ It Brings the World Back into Tune/ Back into Time

“And I am Time itself, I slow to let you play/I steal the hours and turn the night into day” - Farewell Wanderlust (The Amazing Devil)

With cheers and dance, the hunt turned into a parade. After sealing the deal, the Queen had turned on her heels and walked off without another word, the other fae following her. Some caught fireflies or fished the reflection of the sun out of a pond they passed, fasting the light onto their spears and turning them into dancing lanterns. The lights bobbed in time with their skipping steps, as if they were jesters juggling balls for their sovereign’s amusement.

With just enough distance that the fae wouldn’t be able to listen in on them, Geralt and Jaskier followed the fool’s lanterns. Not that there was anything for the fae to listen in on. Jaskier had tried asking Geralt if he was alright, but Geralt had done nothing but fix him with a cold look, before averting his eyes.

No one saw the way Jaskier’s face fell at the rejection. The fae certainly seemed to pay them no mind. What use would there have been for a guard anyway? Geralt was too exhausted from the hunt to run away and Jaskier would be damned if he left his witcher’s side. Despite Geralt stiffening at the touch, Jaskier had slung one arm around Geralt’s waist, steadying him. The lack of protest coming from the witcher spoke louder than words. He truly was holding himself upright with the last resorts of his strength. If Jaskier wanted to see him safe and sound, they had no choice but to follow the procession. Jaskier gained a little satisfaction from walking freely instead of being dragged along by the fae, but he couldn’t help but wonder, if the Queen delighted in this too. It must make her feel so powerful to have them follow her like hounds.

A queasy feeling rose in Jaskier like bile. Hound. The same word the Queen had used to describe Geralt. As if he was a thing to be claimed. And what had Jaskier done? He had called him my witcher, mine. He wasn’t better than her. No wonder Geralt refused to look at him or speak.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier said quietly, staring ahead at the dancing lights. They lacked the warmth that sometimes lit up Geralt’s golden gaze.

In his periphery, Jaskier could see Geralt’s eyes flicker to him, but he remained stoically silent.

“About what I said earlier, I mean.” Jaskier’s fingers twitched on Geralt’s waist. He wished he could hold him more tenderly and not just because of this necessity. “I didn’t mean anything by it. You know that, right?”

This time, Geralt turned his entire head to him, scrutinising him with an unreadable expression. His jaw was tight and his eyes searching.

“I just called you mine because I thought it could get us out of here. I would never lay claim on you.” Jaskier let out a tight laugh that he knew didn’t reach his eyes. “You know how bards are. We like to twist the truth a little sometimes. I don’t really think you belong to me.”

“I know,” Geralt said quickly, roughly. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something else, but then he sighed and pressed his lips together.

“So…we are good? You’re not angry?”

Geralt tensed and his brows drew together, creating a harsh line on his forehead. “I am fucking furious,” Geralt spat, but somehow it seemed more defeated than venomous. “You shouldn’t have come. I told you to never get close to the fae and you practically threw yourself at them. Do you want to die? Why do you keep following danger?”

“That’s not what I’m following,” Jaskier said quietly.

“Could have fooled me.” Geralt huffed out a bitter laugh. “You never stop following me.”

“I know. But you’re not dangerous. You’re…” Jaskier trailed off, unsure of how to put into words what he didn’t dare say out loud, “important. I’m your friend and you’re damn right, I’ll always follow you.”

Even if Geralt didn’t want him to. Even if Geralt left again and again and again. Off on a hunt, off to spend winter with his brothers, off to cross into the Otherworld. Always leaving Jaskier behind, while the bard wished he would turn around and change his mind, asking him to come with him for once.

“It’s not worth risking your life for,” Geralt said. Beneath Jaskier’s hands, he trembled. Quickly, Jaskier shifted to use more of what little strength he possessed to hold Geralt upright.

“It is,” he replied simply, rubbing the fingers of his marked hand together, tracing the white line binding him to his word. “Because it’s you. You’d do the same for me.”

Would he though? Wouldn’t he just be relieved that the annoying bard was finally gone? Would he even turn back and notice he was gone?

“It’s not the same.” Geralt said. “You’re…you’re you. I’m a witcher.”

“Exactly. You help people.” Jaskier ignored Geralt’s snort. “Let someone do the same for you.”

Geralt didn’t reply, looking back at the procession in front of them.

“Just because people don’t always know it, doesn’t mean you’re not saving them,” Jaskier continued. He slowed down their steps, mindful to not let either of their feet get caught on a protruding root. “You helped that town. You should have seen them when they realised they were no longer forced to dance.”

Something small and blue caught his attention. The little bird he had followed before landed on his shoulder, looking up at him with curious black eyes. Jaskier lifted his free hand to pet its little head.

“They were so tired, but they still celebrated. There were children clapping and lovers embracing and - “ he broke off, a lump forming in his throat, “-and there was me, waiting. For you. You’re a good person, Geralt. They might not show it to you, but you make people happy. When we go back, I will tell them. They’ll see that they’re free because of you and they will thank you.”

Geralt sighed, lowering his head, so that the loose strands of hair shielded his face like a curtain.

“What are you doing, bard?” He asked quietly.

“The same thing I always do.” Jaskier gave him a crooked smile, before looking at the lights. They were beautiful in a way. Though not quite as comforting as warm gold. “The same thing any bard tries to do, I assume.”

“Hm?”

“I imagine what the world could be like. And then I try to change it with my words.”

For you. So that people won’t shun you. So that you can be sheltered and won’t go hungry. So that maybe one day, you’ll stay and follow me as well.

“You can’t,” Geralt said. “Words can’t change what I am.”

“See, that’s the most wonderful thing about it,” Jaskier said, pressing his body closer against Geralt’s side under the guise of steadying him. “That’s the one thing I don’t want to change.”

Slowly, Geralt lifted his head. With one hand, Jaskier brushed his hair that had fallen into Geralt’s eyes behind his ears. “There,” he said quietly, “now you can see.”

Something softened in Geralt’s expression and it looked like he was about to say something, but they both got distracted, when the bird fluttered its wings and left Jaskier’s shoulder, disappearing between the trees again.

Following its flight with his eyes, Jaskier noticed that the fae had come to a halt. They were standing in a glade. The lights of the lanterns were brighter than before, or maybe the world had darkened around them, making the trees look like pillars of shadow. Some of the fireflies got released, finding their place on those trees in eerily regular rows. Geralt’s arm around Jaskier’s shoulders was a comforting weight. A reminder of why he was here. A warm contrast to the cold that blanketed the glade. In its middle was a pond, with water that was nearly black, with strange wafts of green and purple drifting through it. Jaskier watched in fascination as the fae still carrying their lanterns stepped closer to the water, releasing the balls of light into it. The lights danced on the water’s surface in a hundred tiny dots.

Next to him, Geralt gasped. Jaskier followed his gaze upwards and his breath stopped. Above them, the canopy of leaves was broken, leaving a window to look up into the sky. A sky, on which the same colours could be seen. Purple, green and blue nebulous shapes painting the black sky as if an artist had run their brush over it in bold strokes. And between the colours, there were countless stars, creating unfamiliar shapes.

“I can’t read them,” Geralt muttered, perhaps more to himself than to Jaskier. His eyes went from one strange constellation to the other, like they had years ago, when he had explained to Jaskier how to navigate using the sky. ‘I don’t need to follow stars,’ Jaskier had said back then. ‘I have you.’ Geralt had remained quiet, but Jaskier had seen on his face that there was a reply burning on his tongue. He wished Geralt had told him back then what he had wanted to say. “I don’t know where we are.”

“It’s alright,” Jaskier said, giving Geralt’s waist a little squeeze. “I will bring us home.”

As if she had waited for him to speak, the Queen spread her arms, commanding every being in this glade to fall silent.

“The hunt is over. So I say,” she began, “as entertainment, our game will begin with the bard’s task of the first day, the witcher’s freedom for to win.”

With the strange cadence of her voice and the unusual way of speaking, it took Jaskier a while to unfurl the meaning of her words.

“Wait.” He couldn’t stop himself from calling out. “First task? You said this task would take time, but it’s already night -”

“Better be quick then, to save your knight,” the Queen said, her lips curling into a cat-like smile.

“What I mean,” Jaskier said, grasping for straws, “is that you said it’s the task of the first day and technically it’s not day anymore.”

The Queen’s smile dropped.

“Don’t try my patience, little flower. I grant you a chance, but nothing more.” With one finger, she traced the new tattoo on her arm - an unmistakable threat. “Do not test me, or I’ll make you cower like a weed does on the floor.”

Geralt’s arm around his shoulder became heavier, pulling him closer as he glared at the queen. His other hand was reaching over Jaskier’s chest, holding him protectively.

The proximity made Jaskier’s heart skip a beat.

The Queen tilted her head at the display. “The more you argue, the more you wait, the less time you’ll have to fight for the witcher’s fate.”

A part of Jaskier wanted to insist that this wasn’t fair, that if the Queen’s words were to be taken at face value, he wouldn’t have to start the task right this instance. But the Queen was right. It was unlikely that she would change her mind and Jaskier didn’t have any time to waste.

He lowered his head, partly so that she couldn’t see the spite in his eyes. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Your Highness, I meant no offence.”

“On then. Let the game commence.” She lifted her hands higher, not unlike a bard demanding attention. “Since stealing the witcher is your desire, here’s the task that I require:” She let her gaze wander over the glade, until it settled on Jaskier again, burning into him. “Time is what you need to steal. Do this ere dawn to honour our deal.”

Time. Jaskier turned to Geralt helplessly. How on earth was he supposed to steal time? It wasn’t as if he could put the sun in his pocket or steal the moon out of the sky. Geralt’s expression was pinched and his breathing ragged.

“Think,” he hissed at Jaskier. It was a plea, a prayer.

Jaskier nodded automatically, but his thoughts refused to get in line. There were a hundred useless things going through his mind, a hundred solutions that were just as impossible as the task itself.

“I thought you’d hurry,” the Queen said, bemused. “Should I start to worry?”

“No,” Jaskier rushed to say. “I can do it. I’m just… I need to think.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking off this distracting foreign world. Without realising what he was doing, Jaskier let go of Geralt to press his fists against his forehead, as if that could get him any closer to the solution.

A weight stumbled against him unexpectedly, nearly knocking him to the ground. His eyes flew open.

Geralt grimaced and tried to pull himself upright on his own, but his knees buckled. Jaskier’s breath hitched. How long had Geralt been on his feet? How many nights had he spent dancing and being hunted?

Jaskier’s hands were back on Geralt in a flash, guiding him carefully to one of the shadow-cloaked trees. He was sure Geralt would have complained, had he had any breath left to speak. Gently, Jaskier lowered Geralt into a sitting position. With one hand, he brushed the sweat-soaked hair out of his forehead, feeling how hot his skin was.

“Rest,” he commanded. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t worry about me, bard.” Geralt bared his teeth. “You’re wasting your time.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, but then he faltered.

Quick as a whirlwind, he leaped to his feet and turned towards the Queen.

“I have done as you have asked,” he proclaimed loudly, his heart hammering with nerves. “I have stolen my witcher’s time, over and over again.”

The Queen raised her brows, motioning for him to continue.

Jaskier glanced uncertainty at Geralt, who was staring at him with a stony expression.

“I have been holding him up on the road because I cannot walk as fast as him. I have been wasting his time when I insist on staying in town longer than he wanted to. I have taken his time, when he didn’t want to give it to me.” He spread his arms, as he did at the end of a performance. “So you see, I have stolen his time.”

“How curious you are, dear bard,” the Queen said, rounding the pond to walk towards Jaskier. “You truly think you speak the truth. How easily does the heart trust falcities while you’re in youth.”

Jaskier frowned. “What do you mean? It’s true, he doesn’t like spending time with me.” He started picking at his hands, twisting them and growing more agitated with every word he spoke. He rushed out the words. They hurt too much to take his time with them. “I’m taking his time without him wanting me to. I won this challenge!”

The Queen didn’t reply, only hummed in a mocking imitation of Geralt’s speech.

“And what do you think about this claim?” She asked, crouching down before Geralt. “Does he speak true? Do you think the same? Or did he not steal any time from you?”

She reached out, caressing one long finger up Geralt’s throat and coming to rest at his lips.

Geralt’s hands flexed, like he wished he had his swords with him. He turned his head away harshly, breaking the contact to the Queen.

An unpleasant tightness pulled at the Queen’s lips. “You’re stubborn, but you’re also weak. You won’t say it freely? I command you: Speak!”

Geralt’s eyes widened in shock and his entire body tensed, as his lips parted, seemingly without his consent.

Jaskier rushed to his side. He fell to his knees beside him, reaching for his hand. “What’s going on?” He asked, clutching Geralt.

Geralt faced him, but he didn’t give a reply to Jaskier’s question. Instead, he did what the Queen had demanded of him and told her his truth.

“It’s not true,” he said, his voice sounding strained. His wooden way of speaking was similar to how he had danced under the fae’s control before. “He has not wasted a minute of my time.” Something strange happened to Geralt’s expression. Jaskier couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a mixture of guilt and shame. Geralt averted his gaze sharply, hiding away from Jaskier. “The time we spend together is time I give to him freely.”

Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t heard correctly. It was impossible. Geralt - Geralt didn’t like spending time with him. He had barely tolerated his presence for years. There was not a world in which he actually wanted to watch Jaskier stop their travels, just to look at flowers or take forever trying on different outfits and asking for Geralt’s opinion. Geralt didn’t like being stuck at a tavern, because Jaskier had decided to play an encore. He didn’t.

Yet here he was, forced to speak true.

Jaskier’s heart made a foolish, hopeful jump. But Geralt wasn’t looking at him and the Queen was laughing in mockery.

Jaskier was a fool. A fool for thinking he could talk his way out of this challenge. A fool to think Geralt liked spending time with him. That wasn’t what he had said, after all. He had merely said that he didn’t hate spending time with him. And what a great difference there was between not minding and liking.

Jaskier clenched his jaw and extracted his hand from Geralt’s. Geralt let him go without even trying to hold him back. He didn’t know what to do. He had thought himself oh so clever, but it was all for naught now. He couldn’t even begin to figure out how to solve this. He wasn’t even sure if it was a riddle to be solved or if there was a solution reliant on the unknown rules of this world.

He moved around the pond, looking down into the nebulous shapes and colours, praying to find an answer there. If there were any gods, they hadn’t dared to follow him into this realm.

He was pacing, heart racing. Fingers drumming on his thighs. There were eyes on him. Everyone was watching. Judging.

He shook his head, shut his eyes tightly. He could feel this place getting to him, like a fog creeping up unnoticed, until suddenly you realised you couldn’t see anymore. He couldn’t think clearly. Everything here was so alive, breathing and humming to a tune he didn’t understand.

And every leaf on every tree, every pair of eyes, every star in the sky was watching him, waiting for him to misstep. Normally, he loved attention, thrived in it. But this was making him feel so small. Powerless. Alone. It was like being on stage, needing to perform a song he had never heard, while being judged on whether he hit his notes, knew his lines, was able to keep time…

His head snapped up. Abruptly, the drumming of his fingers stopped. On instinct, one of his hands reached for his back, to where his lute rested safe and secure, just waiting to be played again. He swung the instrument to his front. Immediately, his hands found their places on the strings. They danced over them nimbly, just a silly little run, yet with each note Jaskier plucked, he could feel some of his confidence return. This was a world of magic, of pure chaos. When Jaskier had learned how to play, the notes hadn’t made sense. His fingers hadn’t understood how to move. The melodies had been all jumbled up. In short, his playing had been chaotic. And he had taken this chaos and turned it into something beautiful, something he could understand and create.

The white string around his wrist shone bright in the light of the nebulae above him, but it was nothing compared to the brightness of the notes he elicited from the strings on his lute.

He found himself standing taller, prouder. His fingers didn’t falter as he played in piano, so that his voice could be heard throughout the glade.

“The Queen demands entertainment,” he announced, throwing his voice, “What is more entertaining than two musicians showing their craft. I challenge you, if there be one among you who thinks they can match my skill, to play with me.”

A hush fell over the clearing, all eyes turning to the Queen. She regarded Jaskier like a hunter trying to figure out its prey’s next move. Then, she waved at one of her fae.

“My Songbird, come, what do you say?” At her call, the fae with the blue feathered cloak looked up. He ran a hand over his cloak, smoothing the feathers and bowing in acknowledgement. The Queen continued, “I heard that you have longed to play with common, mortal folk. On then, take out your lyre, shed your cloak and show us how well you can sing.” Her lips tilted up into an unpleasant smile. “For you, it must be no hard thing to win against a human bardling.”

Wren pressed his lips together in a tight smile, his bow deepening. In one motion, he straightened his spine again and opened the clasp of the cloak. It fluttered to the ground like a bird’s wings. When Jaskier looked from the cloak back to the fae, he was holding an instrument in his hand. A beautiful golden lyre, strung with silver strings.

“I thank you, Highness, for your trust,” Wren said. With his free hand, he smoothed out the chemise he was wearing. It was a lighter shade of blue than his cloak had been, but looked just as much like the soft downs of a bird. “I have no doubt about whose glitter will rust in the end.” He turned to Jaskier in a renewed bow. “Will you begin then, little friend?”

Jaskier bristled at the moniker. A sharp reply about them not being friends was already at the tip of his tongue, but he faltered. It was too close to what Geralt so liked to say to him and he didn’t want to think of that now. He had to believe that he could do this, that he could earn Geralt’s trust, if not his affection.

So instead, Jaskier nodded at Wren’s instrument. “I thought you fae despised liars.”

Wren’s eyes lit up. “Ah, but there is fire in your heart and that is something we admire.” His fingers ran up and down his lyre. The notes falling from the strings were like liquid gold. “I ask again, do you want to start?”

Jaskier forced his fingers not to tighten around the fretboard, giving himself an air of confidence. “I thought we could play a duet. I begin and you join in.” His tongue darted out, wetting his lips nervously. “Surely keeping up won’t be hard for a Songbird like you?” He prayed echoing the Queen’s earlier words would be enough to goad the fae into compliance. From the tales he had been told about the fair folk, their arrogance could be their downfall. But their wrath would be everyone else’s doom.

Wren’s brows rose up, but he nodded slowly, intrigued. He motioned for Jaskier to begin.

Jaskier took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and plucked the first note. He didn’t know what his fingers were doing, had never played this song before or heard it performed at any court. Yet his fingers found their places sure and steady as if he had played this melody a hundred times before. The song rose and fell like Geralt’s chest in hi sleep, the first time he had felt comfortable and safe enough to close his eyes with Jaskier there. It danced merrily like the flames of a campfire Geralt had lit because Jaskier was cold. It - it ached.

He played it as if he had known this song all along, and in a way, he had.

A new melody joined in with his and his eyes shot open. The fae was plucking at his lyre, weaving a harmony into his song. Something shifted inside Jaskier. There was no way to explain, but it felt like Wren’s playing fit perfectly with his, not only in regards to time and tune. No word was spoken, yet in his heart, Jaskier knew that they were telling the same story with their instruments.

He had heard tales before, about mortals beating fae by playing songs coming from the heart.

"I've played for many centuries, yet, by the stars above,

You've taught me skill is not enough. It can't compare to love."

Wasn’t that what the hero in one of those old songs got told? That no fae’s skill could compare to his love? And yet, no matter how much Jaskier thought about nights spent sitting around a fire, about Geralt telling him of his family in a low voice, about leaning his head against his shoulder, there was no sign of Jaskier’s playing being superior.

He thought of Roach’s hooves thundering on the ground, as Geralt spurned her on to get Jaskier to a healer in time. Jaskier’s fingers on the lute sped up, but Wren matched his pace, note for note. Jaskier let his mind stray to the day when Geralt had taken him to a farm, and asked for his help finding a new suitable Roach. The notes swelled, as the melody slowed. Wren didn’t falter.

Jaskier gritted his teeth. His fingers were burning with the friction created by the strings. He had no idea how long they had already played. It could have been mere minutes, or it could have been most of the night. He couldn’t tell. In his mind, he was walking through years upon years of love, of Geralt making him want to sing.

Geralt.

Jaskier’s eyes darted to the witcher. He half-expected Geralt to be asleep or meditating. Anything to regain his energy, while not having to endure listening to Jaskier play. Yet, he found Geralt looking straight at him, tension in his shoulders, but something soft in his eyes.

Jaskier’s heart jumped and for just a second, his fingers fumbled. He caught himself, before he lost the rhythm of the song.

He couldn’t look away. Geralt was right there. The sight of him so near made Jaskier’s heart swell. It made him hope. It made him want to sing.

And so he did. He took this wordless song, that had been both his and Wren’s and made it his and Geralt’s. Only theirs.

“Time.

They say, it will take time.

They say that if I wait

I will realise that I should go

And not look back or lose my way.

But I say

No.

It’s already to late

For me, because time

Is the one thing I don’t have

The one thing that I gave

To the one I wish was mine.”

His voice broke, when Geralt’s brows drew together. He didn’t understand, Jaskier told himself. Geralt never understood this songs. Why would this be any different? He had to believe this. Had to trust that Geralt didn’t know that this song was about him, or Jaskier wouldn’t be able to continue. Jaskier forced himself to look away. Still, he felt Geralt’s eyes burning into the back of his head.

“What a useless gift to give

To someone who sure will live

Longer than i know I will

Yet I give it to him still.

My best years I would give away

If only I knew it would make him stay.

But he shuns my years, my time.

In winter, I am left behind.

Half a year - no more, I know -

Can I give to him, before he will go

And leave me standing in the snow.

I give my winters to him still

By waiting, hoping, feeling ill

With missing him.

And yet come spring,

I know that I’ll be his again.

Even if he won’t be mine

I still can give him this: My time.”

He didn’t notice the tears in his eyes, until the first one dropped and landed on his lute with a quiet splash. His voice became thinner than before, raw with emotion. He couldn’t tell what other words tumbled from his lips. Perhaps he sang more of the pain of only being allowed to see his love for half a year, before he left to be with his family again. Perhaps he sang of the warmth that would make the world bloom around him, when he saw his love return - though his love wasn’t returned - in spring. Or perhaps he sang of the injustice of giving his time, his life to one who people thought did nothing but take lives. Geralt wasn’t taking his life - Jaskier was freely giving it to him and he felt more alive for it.

Maybe he sang of a million other things. In the end, it didn’t matter. Whatever words were falling from his lips, he was singing about Geralt. About loving him. And no matter what this fae understood about longing and love, he could never understand what it was like to be mortal, to only have a handful of years and to willingly give them to someone else.

With every word he sang, Jaskier’s voice got more hoarse, but his fingers became steadier.

A dissonant twang cut through the song and for one terrifying moment, Jaskier thought his hands had failed him. But no, his fingers were still plucking the tune, his strained voice still singing the song of his heart.

It was Wren, who had stopped playing. Whose hands were trembling, unable to keep time with a song that wasn’t his anymore. His dark eyes were shining and when he squeezed them shut, a single tear rolled down his cheek and he averted his eyes. He did not attempt to pick up the song again. He only listened, as Jaskier sang, until finally, he let the melody fade out. The last note hung in the air like the stars hung in the sky. There was utter silence, except for Jaskier’s and Wren’s choked sobs.

A hand touched Jaskier’s and he flinched. With wide eyes, he stared at Geralt, who had pulled himself to his feet despite his pain and exhaustion, just to stay by his side. His hand was warm and steady against his. Immediately, Jaskier let go of the lute and clung to Geralt’s hand instead, like a lifeline. Geralt didn’t say a word, only gave his hand a light squeeze. A silent reassurance that he was there with Jaskier, that even when Jaskier looked away, ashamed and lost, Geralt still wouldn’t leave him.

Jaskier took a couple of deep breaths. He couldn’t hope to soothe the ache in his heart, but he could steady his voice enough to speak with dignity.

“Your Majesty,” he said loudly, searching the Queen’s gaze. She wasn’t crying, but there was unmistakable longing in her eyes. “Your champion agreed to play a duet with me, yet he could not keep time.” Jaskier lifted his head higher. “Therefore, I have stolen his time and declare myself the winner of this first challenge.”

The Queen regarded him for a long moment, then she inclined her head.

“A victory well earned,” she finally said, her voice less steady than it had been before. “Though a winner you are not, with a love so spurned.”

Jaskier flinched. Beside him, Geralt stepped closer, until their shoulders touched. He pulled Jaskier into his side, steadying him.

“Let him rest,” Geralt demanded. “He did what you asked of him, he doesn’t deserve any more of your mind games.”

The Queen’s lips twitched in amusement. She said something else, gave tasks to her fae, but Jaskier was too distracted by the feeling of Geralt next to him. By the familiar heat of his body. By the way he had come to his aid without hesitation.

“Come on,” Geralt muttered, lips close to Jaskier’s ear. A shiver went down Jaskier’s spine and he let himself be guided away by Geralt. A part of him was sure, he should pay attention to where he was going. But the bigger part knew he could trust Geralt not to lead him astray. He closed his eyes and leaning against Geralt, he followed where he led. He would always follow. Until the end of the Continent. Until the end of Time.

Even if, eventually, Geralt would leave him again, as he was always wont to do, without looking back.

tag list (please tell me if you want me to add or remove your from the list):

@wren-of-the-woods @panna-acida @comfyswitcherblanketfort @smolalienbee @breadpants-bard @mothmanismyuncle @fingons-rad-harp @flosimo @ samukai @dawners

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #the witcher #witcher #fic #fanfic #my writing #if it all can be stolen away #mulitchapter

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dreamofbecoming · 2 years

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4, 5, and 6 for Ruin? <333

oooh fun! hello dear!

4) what’s my favorite lyrical part of the song?

listen madeleine’s little “i’ll sing silence” after “i play our song” gets me every time. drinking song is Their Song! they were doing so well but it fell apart anyway! they are trying harder tomorrow! i am weeping on the floor!

5) what’s my favorite instrumental part of the song?

i think what i love about ruin is that the instrumentals are so minimal, you know? like, the piano does pick up a bit as it goes along, and new melodies and harmonies get added, but it stays relatively quiet and simple throughout, and relies on their voices to manage the rises and falls, which i think is a really lovely contrast to the metaphor in the lyrics. the piano is their relationship, still standing, but damaged, but it’s going to take their own human voices to carry the song. they can’t rely on their history, the walls that already crumbled. they have to build it back up using their own hands. i’m mixing metaphors but you get it lol

6) what stories or character are connected to this song in my mind?

oh this is such a geraskier song for me. post-mountain/post-s2 specifically. maybe that’s cheating, on account of the *gestures* everything about me, lmao, but it is! madeleine as geralt, joey as jaskier?

“brick by brick you built us / and i filled in the cracks / nothing quite prepares you for / when they don’t come back” i am. chewing on the furniture. jaskier built them by refusing to give up on geralt, and geralt filled in the cracks with little gestures and kindnesses, and he maybe he expected jaskier to brush off the mountain fight like he always had before and come back! but he didn’t! and maybe jaskier expected geralt to cool down and come back! but he didn’t either! the strength of geralt’s anger and self-loathing reduced their relationship to rubble 😭

but also! “our mortar was your laughter” they sing that line together! they both see the other’s happiness as the reason to stay! i’m losing my mind! “you hurled curses at the land” well he sure did didn’t he. probably shouldn’t have done that, huh, bud? “we didn’t talk / we made / universes out of bitten lips and broken hands” jaskier built their relationship up in his mind based on lots of little cues, but they never fucking. talked to each other! ahhhhhhh!!!!!

“you said ‘i love you less than when it all began’” and “i make jokes to show how broken i really am” makes me think about s2 and also throwing myself off a cliff

listen wren my love you have stepped on a landmine this song makes me feral 😂😂😂

#bdkalskdj this makes me want to write another post canon fic help #thank you for the ask darling!!#geraskier #ruinanniversary2022 #the amazing devil #tad #joey batey #madeleine hyland #personal #asks #coming back to this because it’s 4am and i can’t sleep #i have. more thoughts #like #‘i promise to be patient and you promise to be kind’ TELL me that isn’t a post canon geraskier line #jaskier promising to give geralt time to sort through his feelings #geralt promising not to be cruel again #not to take his anger out on jaskier #ask long as jaskier gives him those minutes to work through it #tomorrow they’ll be brave!!!! i’m going to throw my phone off a building what the fuck!!!!!!!

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youneedanap · 1 year

Text

The brown haired, hopeless romantic, Jaskier was once a bard, a good one at that in fact. However a few weeks or so ago, the man had disappeared without a word, without a trace, not even a song left behind.

He didn't want to, but after finding out that a few people had died after hearing his songs. He realised he had to leave. Someone had cursed him, whether they wanted him to shut up or what, he didn't know. He didn't even remember how this curse happened, but all he knew...

..People were dying, because of him and he felt his passion had betrayed him.

Music was something he had always loved, but when people dropped dead the day after hearing him sing. He knew he could no longer bring glee to anyone, not even 'Mr. O' look at me I'm Geralt Of Rivia and I'm a strong handsome witcher'.

He picked up his lute from beside him, angry and upset with himself. How could so many people die because of him?

If he couldn't sing, what was he if no longer a bard?

A silver tear drop dripped from his eyes as he quickly wiped it away.

Despair rushed through his blood with his mind racing through deflating thoughts. He tightly gripped his lute, standing up and smashing it across the side of a tree as if that would solve anything.

"Useless,stupid,thing! No need for you anymore. I'm not a stupid bard no more!"

That's when it hit him, he had destroyed his one possession he never wanted to actually rid and what if there was a way to break this curse?

"Oh bollocks"

Probably not, he had no idea where to start. Dropping to the side of the tree, the male frowned as he pulled up blades of grass chucking it ahead of him.

"Geralt's probably heard the news that's been spreading 'Did you hear? That stupid bard's singing has gotten so bad that it's been killing people? Let's hope we don't bump into him.'

'I heard he killed himself because no body could listen to his music and he felt guilty that he was killing people.'

'Ay, probably about time that nitwit is gone anyway. He gets on my nerves so much.'

Heh,, yea they're probably best to think I'm dead."

The male muttered to himself as his mind wandered the vast empty wasteland in his mind. It was like everything he lived for was dying and he couldn't do anything to stop it. Did Geralt even actually care for him? How would he react? Hatred because people have died because of him? Yea that made sense.

"I hear you're alive... how disappointing, I've also survived, no thanks to you,, Did I not bring you some glee Mr. O' look at me? Now I'll burn all the memories of you.. All those lonely miles,, that you ride,, now you'll walk with no one by your side. Did you ever even care with your swords and your stupid hair? Now watch me laugh, as I'll burn all the memories of you,,"

"What for do you yearn is the point of no return? After everything we did, we saw, you turned your back on me, what for do you yearn?.."

#idk what tags to use #witcher 3 #jaskier #random writing

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keepthemacramesecret · 1 year

Text

I posted 2,199 times in 2022

That's 821 more posts than 2021!

39 posts created (2%)

2,160 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@in-mutual-weirdness

@smolshork

@darknessandterrorandkittens

@witcherbeech

@geeneelee

I tagged 737 of my posts in 2022

#a - 41 posts

#🥺 - 6 posts

#mcr - 4 posts

#!!! - 4 posts

#yea yea yea - 4 posts

#yeah - 4 posts

#👀 - 4 posts

#(honorific) - 3 posts

#acd holmes - 3 posts

#👀👀👀 - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#sorry those are different measurement systems its just that i have no idea what the celsius was in texas and no idea what the farhenheit was

My Top Posts in 2022:

netflix witcher truly made the funniest decisions wrt jaskier bc like. im reading the books now and i’ve played a fair bit of the wild hunt and listen dandelion is fruity as hell and geralt is also clearly not straight but they rly do not come across as anything other than friends, but having jaskier b like. desperately following him around hoping for a shred of affection and then geralt outwardly claiming not to like him but being so visibly fond of him anyway like none of this was necessary sdkfkdf they chose to do it this way.

27 notes - Posted February 10, 2022

Bad news guys im doing timeline math and im pretty sure holmes and watson are 27-28 and 24-25 respectively in study in scarlet

55 notes - Posted November 7, 2022

hi im not done thinking about the empty house actually, it's in the fact that the title literally references the setting of morans arrest but also the emptiness of baker st itself without holmes and watson. and within that, the idea of holmes and watson in baker st as A Complete Home despite the gender and family norms of the time. idk. much to think about

61 notes - Posted November 17, 2022

Ok so we all know how the amazing devil lyrics use a lot of recurring Themes and Motifs, well a few wks ago i made a table to try and get like a visual overview of all the songs' connections to each other, and im still working on a good way to display that bc its A Lot. But in the meantime i dropped all 59 threads i was following into a perchance generator so u can get ur own tad vibes songwriting prompts!

72 notes - Posted March 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

hey whats up idk how many of yall r in ireland but if anyone wants 2 tickets to mcr at kilmainham hospital (dublin) on may 24th, i cant use them so i have to resell, just dm me and we’ll sort it out :)

76 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #rip my mcr tickets :(

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keirametzbrassknuckles · 2 years

Note

Would love to hear about Drumming Song or Salt, if you want to!

Salt is actually not a Witcher fic (surprising, I know, who even am I?). It's my take on a selkie and fisherman fic that is not about selkies at all featuring John Bridgens and Henry Peglar from The Terror. It's actually a reworking of a very old Les Mis fic I wrote in middle school and going through and picking the wheat from all of the chaff I wrote at 13 is kind of fun. Baby me kind of went off in places NGL.

Drumming Song came about because I decided that Eskel would make a great drummer. It slowly spiraled out of control from a cute fic of Geralt getting hot and bothered watching Eskel play to an absolute heartbreaker of a fic involving complicated sibling relationships, drug abuse, abandonment issues, the inherent trauma of growing up as an outsider in a small town, and being unable to break the cycles of abuse forced on you by circumstance. Y'know... all that fun stuff.

I've been trying to beat it into shape for a while but I can't really get it to say what I want it to yet. Dropping the beginning under the cut though because it's dear to me:

It's very soft but CW for mentions of child abuse anyway

The interior of the little roadside farm stand is dark and hot as hell, smelling of dirt and hay and vegetables slowly rotting in their crates. A fly hums over some tomatoes. In the corner a fan makes a halfhearted effort to move the blistering air around.

It’s Geralt and Eskel’s turn to mind the shop while Gweld, Tristan and Aubry help Vesemir with the day chores. They’re Vesemir’s farmhands much more than his sons and while the old man is kind he’s never gentle and works them accordingly. It’s better, though, than what he left; here he never goes hungry, never goes cold and he gets to shower every day. Best of all though, he met Eskel. Eskel is kind, and beautiful and Geralt loves him with the kind of star-struck twelve-year-old puppy love that is worth its weight in gold. Eskel, for all intents and purposes a sage and ancient fourteen, is the sun his planet orbits around, the steady, reliable center of his universe. If all Geralt ever knows is this one sun-struck summer, this buzzing heat, Eskel and the dirt streaked across one chestnut-tanned cheek, he thinks he’d die the happiest boy in the world.

They have the stereo on, huddled around it pressed closer than the warmth warrants, sharing a carton of fresh blueberries, unwashed and slightly gritty. Geralt is sweating so badly his shirt is sticking to his back but every now and then his and Eskel’s hands collide or their shoulders brush and Geralt feels like he’s swallowing the sun; some brightness in his chest lighting up like a firefly in the darkness.

“Listen!” Eskel says, eyes lighting up as the drum solo begins, as though this is the first time he’s heard it, as though they haven’t listened to it so many times it’s practically worn a hole in the tape “and then it goes…”

Geralt isn’t listening to the song, too busy watching the way Eskel mimics the drum line with two outstretched fingers in the air; the roll, the six one-two punches, the thunderclap of the cymbal. His fingers are long and beautiful, scabbed knuckles and all, tips of them stained purple with berry juice that Geralt wants to lick off even though he’s not entirely sure why.

“Something on my face?” Eskel asks. He’s smiling that private smile that he seems to reserve exclusively for Geralt and it makes his cheeks burn.

“No” he says, looking away quickly “I just…”

A customer wanders in, unknowable beneath her wide-brimmed sunhat, sending them shuffling apart and pretending to look busy. Geralt’s skin is buzzing like he’s just swallowed an entire hive of bees, and his mouth tastes dusty, dry suddenly. He glances at Eskel over his shoulder only to find Eskel looking back at him, dark eyes full of some emotion that Geralt can’t put a name to.

“Have you ever thought about what we’re gonna do after this?” he asks Eskel that evening as they’re shutting up the chicken coop.

The sky is turning bruise-colors at the edges, the last rays of the sun striking out gamely over the mountaintops in spears of bright against the dark. Crickets squeal in the long grass and in the patches of shadow at the edges of the forest the fireflies have already begun to make themselves known. Eskel carries the now-empty feed bucket and is drumming his fingers on it in a rhythmic roll that sounds like incoming thunder.

“Maybe” Eskel says, shrugging, pausing his drumming on the bucket for a moment before rolling into a syncopated tap tap tap rhythm that sounds like rain coming down on the roof of the greenhouse.

“Do you think we’ll do it together?”

That gives Eskel pause.

“Maybe” he says again, like a record stuck in a scratch repeating the same words, voice quiet in the dark.

“Well I’d like that” Geralt says, feeling sure about something for the first time in his life, resolute “We could get a house on the seaside and a drum set for you so you could play….”

He gets a little tangled up in himself after that, not sure what adulthood is supposed to look like. His experience of most grown ups so far has been acrid smoke and gnawing hunger in his stomach and dark rooms full of too many people who wouldn’t hear him no matter how hard he cried. Eskel, he knows, came from somewhere worse; somewhere that he wakes in the night begging to escape from. Geralt doesn’t want that for them, that re-treading of old patterns or falling into ruts (“it’s about breaking cycles” one of the caseworkers had said to Vesemir once when they’d thought they were alone “these boys are all stuck in it whether they want to be or not. It’s about keeping them out of the shit for as long as you can”); rather, he wants some kind of soft and open brightness that he can feel at the tips of his fingers but can’t manage to name.

“I’d like that” Eskel says, taking the bucket by the handle properly so he can grab Geralt’s sweaty, grimy hand in his own “I’d really like that”

That night they sleep with the windows open, the dust-hot wind rolling in from the hay fields coating their tongues. As soon as he’s sure Gweld and Aubry are asleep Geralt slips from his own bed and into Eskel’s, shadow quiet. He curls up against Eskel’s side, wrapping one skinny arm across that broad ribcage. Eskel smells of clean soap and fresh laundry, the fabric of his t-shirt soft and worn-in beneath Geralt’s cheek. He has his headphones on and the steady hum of the tape player is a metronomic white noise in the darkness; whir, rewind, whir, rewind as Eskel plays and replays his favorite song. His hand settles at the small of Geralt’s back, fingers drumming drumming drumming against his spine.

#my fic

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 2 years

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(some of) My fics as lyric stills

I think 99 percent of my fics are named after songs or song lyrics. So I thought, how do those lines look as stills from lyric videos? Well, most look intriguing :) Some do even fit the atmosphere of the fics, but some you can see I chose them only because I really liked the song or whatever. Also, disclaimer: Many songs don’t even have lyric videos. Many are made by fans, and often very good! Some bands don’t really seem to care for lyric videos. Blind Guardian, you have a LOT to catch up in that regard... Well, anyway. Here’s a totally random and only funny to me contemplation on song lyrics.

[1] Did I choose the title of my latest fic because I listened too much to Nils? Yeah, could be. But I mean, look at him...

[2] Sabaton is not only my favorite band, they DO have lyric videos to many of their songs, so kudos to you, Sabaton. The fic in this case was a collaboration piece with @humbae who loves Sabaton maybe almost as much as I do. No gravestones in it, though. I think.

[3] Yeah, that is... very dark. It isn’t even a dark fic, but Breaking Benjamin is just a very depressed band. This lyric video is fan made.

[4] Another fan made video for “Slow Burn” by Apocalyptica. I feel it is a bit too much since the song is about love, not about actually burning. Well... the fic is mostly random.

[5] Fan made video for “Scars” by Papa Roach, nice tree, nice atmosphere. As for the fic, the still lacks vampires, but they couldn’t know I take such a nice line for a fic in which Geralt gets bitten by an alp, you know.

[6] Very nice picture on this fan made video. It is of course a Tolkien themed thing and my fic is nothing like the sort, but I still like the atmosphere here (and I’m super sorry to all Tolkien fans that might stumble upon one of my fics thinking it’s about anything Hobbit or LOTR or Silmarillion related, it’s definitely not).

[7] This one is an original by Breaking Benjamin and I have no idea why they chose that angle. However, I chose that line because that was my Breaking Benjamin phase.

[8] This one would be fitting for a vampire fic, right? Alas, this title I chose for the first bodyguard AU shorty. A song by Cat Stevens, by the way.

All the videos are linked here:

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

#random #lyric videos #writing #fanfiction #writing and music

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montcumbry-gaytor · 5 months

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Nepenthe. chap 09

act two : razbliuto

THIS IS A OC INTEGRATION FOR THE WITCHER, IT IS NOT A X READER FIC.

— it did it again I am about to shoot Tumblr on the vanilla extract oh my fucking god.

tw for : Canon Typical Violence and Graphic language, Mentions of throwing up.

(n.) the sentimental feeling about someone you once loved but no longer do.

"-And it.. swallowed.. that Witcher.. whole!" The man proclaimed, his face full of terror as the men and women of the inn gasped in shock.

What a joke. I think as I lean my weight against the chair Jaskier sits on, and he hums in intrigue. "Oh, This is brilliant!" He says, scribbling quickly with his quill, and as i'm somewhat leaned over him I can see his handwriting is quite neat.

I've found in the somewhat short time I've spent with him that he's more than just a bard, he's proven to be impressive in ways. "Sorry, It's just that Geralt's usually so stingy with details." He murmurs to the blood soaked man.

Jaskier scribes the last few words down before he asks for more detail, and the blubbery man spurs on his words before they come out.

"He died."

They all gasp, and I can't help the small grin on my lips as I sip from my ale, Jaskier speaking what we were both thinking. "Ehh... he's fine." And the man immediately goes to protest, and I count down with my fingers to Jaskier as he speaks.

"Listen, I was there" Wham. soaked in blood, Geralt barges into the in, his clothes sticking to him and as Jaskier gives him a hearty laugh, I can't help but chuckle a bit myself.

As Geralt demands what he's owed, Jaskier begins to sing the ballad he wrote, despite it being a decent song, I kick the tip of my boot into his calve lightly, but he takes it and sings anyway.

It's like a fairy tale how everyone joins in song, and I cringe as I move to walk with Geralt, a drink waiting for him at the counter-thanks to me- but I say nothing of it as I lean against the counter, and the cheer dies down as Jaskier walks over.

I know by his body language he's about to discuss what he proposed to me, and while I denied at first, I eventually caved and now I can't say no.

Jaskier spurs on in an elongated speech, and eventually Geralt growls out. "Fuck off, Bard." and I let out a soft 'Tsk' as I pinch Geralt's ear for a moment, his hand coming up to bat mine away.

I'm glad to be on.. more resolved terms with him now, we're not lovers, despite things we do, I still care about him but.. not in the same way, Triss words often come back into my mind and set me on the right track.

My mind snaps back as Geralt walks off, and I grin as I watch Jaskier babble on for a moment before his eyes meet mine and he mutters a small. "Fuck." before he moves to catch up with Geralt.

"Food, Women, and Wine, Geralt!" He proclaims, and Geralt pauses ses for a moment, sighs, and it's clear he just wants to be clean of the selkimore guts and asleep. "What about Kael?" He asks.

"I'm backup, Unlike you I'm not interested in women so I'm trusted to keep my hands off his merchandise." I elaborate with a soft grin, standing beside Jaskier, and he holds a fist out.

He's a bit silly, yes, but I feel he brings out whatever side of me is less reserved, and I bump his fist with mine. "Fine." Geralt murmurs, and turns to go upstairs where a warm bath is waiting for him.

We all slip inside, I find a chair in the back and sit on it backwards, Geralt makes no effort to be shy of himself as he pulls his clothes off and submerges himself in the water.

Jaskier takes a small pale of water and as he rolls up his sleeves he approaches Geralt, tending to him as if he's some heathen child and pours the water over Geralt's head.

"Now, Now, Stop your boorish grunts of protest. It is one night of guarding your very best friend in the whole wide world." Jaskier hums, and as he moves to grab something from the rattan dresser our eyes meet almost for a mere second.

Of course, I can't help but deny the way he's acting almost motherly is cute, but the thought doesn't linger as Geralt grumbles his words out. "You're not my friend."

"Oh, Really? So you just let strangers rub chamomile on your lovely bottom?" Jaskier turns to ask Geralt, and as Geralt cocks his head to face the bard with an expression that says 'what the fuck? 'Jaskier speaks up. "Yeah, well, that's what I thought."

He then goes on to talk about kings and other royalty will be at this gathering, and sprinkles bath salts into the tub of water as he proclaims that the Lioness herself will say praise of his works.

They chatter back and forth, and I enjoy watching it play out, Geralt's pure expression of frustration is amusing to say the least. "Ugh, is this what happens when you get old? You get unbearably crochety and cantankerous?" Jaskier asks, and I meet his eyes with furrowed brows.

"Geralt's just as sour as a crabapple." I comment, and lean back into my chair, crossing a leg over the other. "I've always wanted to know, Do witchers ever retire?" Jaskier asks and Geralt is quick to make yet another negative reply.

"Yeah. When they get slow and get killed." He grumbles, and Jaskier questions Geralt if he'd ever want anything after whatever life this is ends. "I want nothing."

It makes me think for a moment, I'd always thought at some point I'd be able to settle down, but it's the same reality that you really don't stop until you're dead that reminds me that settling down is only easier to say and not to do.

"Well, Who knows, maybe someone out there will want you." Jaskier says as he rests his arms on the tub. "I need no one." It irks me when he says that, maybe more than it should, but it does. "And the last thing I want is someone needing me."

The more he talks the more I can feel my eye twitching with annoyance, I bite my tongue from making a remark but internally those words all flood out.

"And yet.. here we are." Jaskier murmurs, and Geralt lets out only a grunt before he begins to look around. "Where the fuck are my clothes Jaskier?" The bard quickly explains where they are, before he grins widely with a newfound excitement.

"Neither of you will need your clothes anyways, Because tonight.. you're not going as witchers.."

Those were the last words I wanted to hear, this wasn't part of the deal.

But there's no room to refuse as Jaskier quickly spurs us up in party acceptable clothing, Geralt looks completely out of his element, but.. I haven't dressed well in so long it's almost strange seeing myself in clothes made just for looks.

I gaze into the mirror and run my hand down the fabrics, while at first I refused the corset vest, it actually looks quite nice.

But of course, there's one last thing, a small black eye patch rests on the vanity and I fidget with it for a moment before it's secured on.

I walk out of the dressing room, and Jaskier coos and urges me to twirl. "Is the eye patch really necessary..?" I ask, It feels like it only calls more attention to the empty socket even if it's hiding it.

"You look lovely, perhaps you'll even meet a man who suits your tastes to keep you company tonight." Jaskier hums, and I let out a deep sigh, that's the least of my worries.

My job is to end men, not their squabbles,

It's getting closer to the evening time and we arrive to the event, I can feel Geralt's eyes on me despite it all, he seems awkward in the clothes he was put in.

"Right so stick close to me, look mean and pretend you're both mute." Jaskier says as we enter the Grand Hall, the scent of pompous assholes is strong and unpleasant in my nose.

"We can't have anyone finding out who you are." Jaskier says to Geralt, and I let out a huff at the irony. "If you didn't want that you shouldn't have made him famous." I say, and Jaskier huffs back in retort. "If I would have known I would have reconsidered."

Jaskier says, and I roll my eyes. "You lack hindsight, is there no brain under that mop of yours?" I ask, and brush my fingers through his hair, and our gazes meet as I bring my hand away, though the moment is cut short as a voice bellows.

"Geralt of Rivia, The mighty Witcher!" It calls direction straight to us, and I pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers, hissing softly. "Shit.." I sigh, and the man approaches us, a flagon of ale in hand.

"I haven't seen you since the plague." He says, he seems to be an old friend of Geralt's, because he smiles and greets him in return. "Good times, Mousesack."

They chat, and the more they talk the more eyes I feel poke and prod, I've never been one for attention, let alone being in the center of the room.

The man now known as Mousesack takes Geralt off our hands, and now I see why I'm being used as backup, and Jaskier and I sigh a bit of relief as the eyes peel off us.

"You did make him look like a sad silk trader, Though." I commented, and Jaskier let out a soft laugh, his eyes traveling down the outfit he chose for me. "Perhaps, But I think you look perfect."

"Overstatements from the bard, how shocking." I brush off his compliment off, leaving it at that as we walk through the bustles of people, Everything makes me a little more uncomfortable.

"You should get yourself a drink.. or two, you look tighter than double knotted laces." Jaskier says, and practically ushers me away, I feel more out of place now that I'm alone.

I've always hated royal gatherings, I've only ever been to these types of settings if it meant slitting a throat for coin, but without a goal but to make sure Jaskier doesn't get absolutely bullied I feel more on edge.

Just as I try to catch my bearings, a man catches my gaze, or he catches mine, and it almost seems like he'll try and approach, and I'm just about to back-pedal as far away from the possible conversation a firm hand on my back grasps me from my thoughts.

Geralt, he's guiding me back to Jaskier, who the second I see him is cornered by a royal half my size, it's a silly sight. "Thank you." I say quickly, and Geralt grunts in response, he knows more than anything that I don't favor this setting.

"Uh- Er.. Ah! My good friends!" Jaskier says in a comical nervousness, and I watch as Geralt uses the fact that he's doing Jaskier a favor to his advantage, lying boldly that Jaskier was kicked in the crotch by an ox, and the royal gives him a gold coin to 'drown his sorrow' before scurrying away.

But their chatter is soon to be cut off as horns blare through the air, and the queen herself cuts through the room, face adorned in blood, fresh from battle, and Jaskier rushes to the small stage with his lute.

His eagerness is visible, I can only hope he'll survive.

Geralt and I sit back against a wall, and he passes me a flagon as we only watch royals idle. "Shit, I already hate this." I comment and take a hearty swig from my flagon, my dual-colored hair falls over my left eye, shading it from public view.

Soon, rowdy chatter bursts as two men bicker back and forth, they fight about beasts when they clearly know nothing, but ignorance is bliss. "Enough!" Calls the queen, and my gaze flits to her as she steps down from the podium.

"We have a renowned guest here tonight." For fucks sake. I internally hiss as I skirt myself away, patting Geralt's shoulder as I creep deeper into the corner of the room, If anything I do not need a queen's eye on me after all the treason to my name.

As quickly as the queen speaks, all eyes are on Geralt, who stands as still as possible before he declares: "Neither." And one of the royals asks him if he's being accused of lying.

And for a moment it's quiet, and I can hear the lie in Geralt's voice, saving anything grand from leaving his mouth and supposing that the royals have found a subspecies, though.. obviously not the case.

Chatter happens quickly, Geralt makes snide comments, and he tells the truth of the happenings of Filavandrel, whom I've come to respect as the days pass by and the memory keeps in my mind.

"Come Witcher.. take a seat by my side while I change." Says the queen, and as she leaves, Geralt can't not comply, and I'm pushed back into now as Jaskier comes down from the smaller podium.

"Well? Going how you expected?" I hum with a soft grin, and he puts his hands on his hips. "I can't say I didn't expect it, just hoped for it not to happen." Jaskier says as he takes a sip from a flagon he'd snagged.

"Perhaps you should try dancing with a willing lady, might cheer you up." I suppose, and just as I say that, a young woman looking to be around Jaskier's age approaches him.

They chat for a bit before Jaskier is pulled away to the center floor and I'm left safeguarding his lute as I watch attentively, at first it was to make sure Jaskier wasn't lured into a trap but as the two begin to dance together the idea is only hypothetical.

He's a bit clumsy on his feet, but he knows how to dance, and it's an entertaining sight, but he's enjoying himself and that's all Geralt and I came here for.

As I watch, a solemn thought plagues my mind no matter if I try to think of anything else, and I find myself sipping at the rich beer in my flagon, yet it's like water in my belly.

Minutes pass by and the music dies down and the queen re-enters the room, and Jaskier and the woman finally slip away from each other with smiles and he practically comes skipping back.

"Enjoy yourself?" I ask, and he's basically gleaming with a newfound enjoyment, his old disappointment of the night wiped away. "Very."

We sit back and idle as man after man approaches the podium where the Queen herself, the princess and now even Geralt sits, and as the first one's title rings in my ears, it makes me a little sick.

"Lord Peregrine of Nilfgaard." A man introduces loudly, and the mere words make my stomach churn, and just before the Lord can speak the crowd blares bagpipes and drunken laughter as a mockery, but I cannot smile in the presence of such a man.

I turn myself to face away, the mere stench of the Nilfgaard makes me nauseous. "Hey- Are you.. alright? you look like you've just seen a ghost." Jaskier asks, now seemingly worried.

"I'm alright- Just.. not a particular fan of Nilfgaard." I reply, and hear as the Queen makes a mockery of the Lord herself, and he rushes off, but the scent lingers.

The night proceeds, and Jaskier once again slips off to make a performance, one that captures the party and they all seem to enjoy him play, it makes him happy, which again, is all that matters currently.

It's all calm and I feel more at ease that the scent of Nilfgaardians has since aired out, but hairs rise on my neck before someone bursts through the rooms doors clad in armor.

He makes his way to the center, and kneels as he introduces himself, and I can only think I'm either paranoid or having a moment of precognition as I step up to where Jaskier is, there's too much tension in the room.

The knight explains himself excusing his lack of exposing his face as an oath, and as a royal steps up declaring it false, he rips the helmet from his head and almost everyone jolts up in shock.

Face clad in quills, he looks just as frightened as the party folk, but this is no monster, it's a curse, and for a moment Geralt and the Queen whisper back and forth, before she bellows throughout the room.

"Slay this beast!" Knights shoot up to take him down, but he's an impressive fighter, and he finishes them quickly, before speaking once more. "Lioness of Cintra, I've come to claim what is rightfully mine!"

He proclaims, and I watch in a precise silence. "Pavetta." The Knight says, and turns to face the princess whose face is contorted in shock. "By the Law of Surprise.." He says, but in the silence swords draw one by one, he's taking down guards by the minute.

Geralt steps up, grabbing a fallen sword and slicing the large weapon that was once about to strike the knight in half, and I take that as a queue to fight, sliding in to grasp a sword that clatters to the ground.

"Kill them!" The queen shouts, and Knights flood in, it's slaughter after slaughter, where Geralt is too precise, I'm too fast, if they were fucked enough trying to kill one Witcher, they were truly balls deep in shit if they had to kill two.

More party goers rise with weapons, and in the midst of it all, the royal who once ripped the helmet from the Knight steps in to fight with us instead of against.

And suddenly amongst all the fighting two swords meet but do not collide. "Stop!" The Queen says, her sword drawn on Geralt, and the whole crowd halts on command.

"Duny!" The princess says as she rushes down from the podium, wrapping her arms around the Knight and he holds her in return. "I told you to stay away." Pavetta says as she cups the Knights quilled cheeks.

The Queen eyes them with uncertainty and they stare with the same, there's tension thick enough to be cut with the slice of your hand.

Once again, the knight kneels to the queen, lowering his weapon before he speaks. "Your Majesty.. The Witcher speaks the truth." He says as he stands once more. "I was cursed as a young boy.. my whole life a living misery until the day that I saved your husband, King Roegner, from a certain death."

The Queen listens in an almost infuriated and disgusted silence, I can sense she's far from done even if she is giving him time to speak. "I chose the Law of Surprise as payment.. Whatever windfall he came home to find would be mine."

He speaks, and the Queen seethes before she speaks up herself. "-Oh, the stupid bastard, Better you had let him die!" She hisses, and I can see Jaskier walk closer to Geralt and I in my peripheral.

"You knew he'd come and you pushed me to kill him." Geralt states, and Pavetta's cheek occupies a tear. "And you.." Calanthe hisses at her own daughter. "Carousing with the beast that swindled your stupid father!"

"Tis no swindle.. Asking for payment with the Law of Surprise is as old as mankind itself." Eist says, stepping forward. "Don't lecture me, Eist." Calanthe growls. "It's an honest gamble.. As likely to be rewarded with a.. bumper crop as a newborn pup."

Eist speaks, his forehead ridden with sweat as he speaks. "Or, A child of surprise.. He could not know." He continues, and Pavetta and the Knight hold each other as they watch the Queen carefully. "Destiny has determined the surprise to be Pavetta."

Eist states, and the quilled knight speaks up again. "When I heard that King Roegner had returned to find a child on the way.. I abandoned all thought of claiming the Law of Surprise." The Knight admits.

He speaks with complete and utter honesty, But the queen only persists to boil with anger. "I knew.. I knew no woman would ever accept me like this." He says, and a tear rolls from his cheek, Pavetta seems almost shocked by the words.

"So I waited.. I waited until the twelfth bell when the curse breaks." The room is dead silent as he speaks, no one dares to move. "I never intended to meet her... Just to watch from afar." He says and gazes into Pavetta's eyes.

"Until destiny intervened.. and our hearts collided." They almost talk like it's a fairy tale, and if I wasn't experiencing this firsthand I'd say that's all it was.

"Who are we to challenge destiny..? Life was saved, Debt must be paid, Or the whole order of the world falls apart."

Eist says, he's desperate to make the queen understand, and the man who'd previously greeted Geralt speaks up. "Honor destiny's wish, Or unleash its wrath upon us."

She's cornered, no one is at her side willingly anymore, no one that matters.

"There is no us! I bow to no law made by men who have never bore a child!" She proclaims. "Is there not a man amongst you who does not cower before Destiny?"

She asks, and her eyes lay on Geralt, before she almost squints at me as I stand by his side, as if picking up by relativity.

"You, Witchers.. Who has known monsters of every fang and claw.. Are you afraid too?" She asks in a patronizing tone. "No." Geralt responds.

"I've seen mothers lash themselves raw over the death of a child, believing they crossed Destiny, Ignoring the stench of the fifty other children in the plague cart outside."

Geralt speaks, his tone gruff but truthful, the mere thought of the time makes me shudder a bit. "Destiny.. Helps people believe there's an order to this horseshit.. There isn't." The Queen's eyes are overwhelmed with unshed tears. "But a promise made should be honored."

He adds, a soft smile on his lips as he speaks. "As true for a commoner.. as it is for a Queen." He says, and the Queen lets out a sigh as a tear rolls down her cheek.

"I love Duny, Mother.. I will marry him." She says, her tone firm and hard, she's made her choice. "I will finally be free." She softly rejoices, and the room is deafeningly silent as the Queen passes off her sword to Eist before holding her hand out.

The knight takes the hand gently, and as the Queen leans over to whisper in his ear. "Here is your destiny." She says with a smile, before drawing the dagger at her hip and lunging it straight for the Knight's throat.

The princess screams out in horror and before the queen can touch the Knight a blast of energy sends us all back, Windows break and I skid to a halt as wind spins the room, The Princess and the Knight standing in the center.

Elder whispers leave her lips, and they lift from the ground, floating effortlessly as chaos surrounds them, Geralt tries to send a surge of energy through his fingers, but he's only sent back.

In a moment of chaos, I see him down a small bottle, through the whipping furniture that whirls around the room Mousesack tries to take the storm as Geralt pushes through it, and with all the strength he can conjure, separates the two and lets them fall as the storm settles into nothingness.

Geralt stands after everything settles and our eyes meet with relief, and nod to each other as whispers fill the room and everyone stands from their collapsed positions and the queen approaches them again.

The tension is gone, she's melted down with the shock of it all, but the couple watches wearily as she steps closer, before the Queen embraces her Daughter in a solemn hug in the center of the room.

"I thought your grandmother's gift had skipped you.. It seems I was wrong.. about so many things." The queen admits as they pull away from the embrace.

"Destiny has spoken! And I have listened.. The Law of Surprise will be honored." The queen proclaims, and I gaze around the room as everyone has recovered, and my eyes land on Jaskier who holds the woman he danced with in his arms.

"Pavetta will marry Lord Urcheon!" Murmurs fill the room, And Eist steps forward to stand with the queen. "React poorly, and you won't just face the Lioness, you will be facing the sea hounds of Skellige. Because Queen Calanthe.."

Eist speaks, and the room quiets down once more. "Has agreed to my proposal of marriage." They all stand at each other's side, before Calanthe once again begins to speak, her voice pieces the room sharper than any sword.

"There will be two vows here tonight! I assume that's agreeable." She says, and every head in the room nods. "Delightful.." Quickly, a ceremony takes place, people circle the room with candles in hand, and the queen binds their hands with a cloth.

"Pavetta. Duny... With my blessing.. I thee bind." The room is silent as their lips meet, and as they pull away, all is normal, before Duny lets out a soft bark, grunting as his body jolts and he falls to the ground.

And as he rises, he's.. Human, Normal, and Pavetta and Duny crawl to each other as they kiss again, the curse lifted. "The twelfth bell has not yet rung.." "What's happened?"

The two are in shock, and Mousesack speaks up. "I think your blessing in this marriage.. has fulfilled a destiny.. The curse has been lifted." Jaskier makes a soft noise of surprise.

"Whew! I think this has the makings of my greatest ballad yet." He says, his arm around the young woman. "If you're alive in the morning... Don't grope for trout in any peculiar rivers until dawn." Geralt says, and turns to leave, and just as I'm about to follow.

"No, Wait- Wait!" Duny says, chasing after Geralt. "You saved my life.. I must repay you." He says, and I purse my lips as I watch. "You've proven yourself to be the kind of man who would do the same."

Geralt says, and once again moves to leave. "I want nothing." "—No, Please, Geralt of Rivia, Do not feel like you're doing me a service." Duny begs, and once again Geralt pauses and turns to face him.

"I cannot start a new life in the shadow of a life debt." Geralt sighs for a moment before he speaks up, he's trying to leave quickly, understandably. "Fine, I claim the tradition as you have, The Law of Surprise.. Give me that which you already have but do not know."

The Queen gasps, her eyes wide. "No! What have you done, Witcher?" She asks, and Geralt speaks up. "Fear not your Majesty, If I am seen in your kingdom again it will be to kill a real monster, Not to lay claim to a crop or a new pup.. Destiny can go fuc—"

The Princess spits up bile, and the queen instantly makes the realization, Geralt is fucked.

"Fuck." He hisses and exits the room, leaving me to tend to Jaskier.

"You're staying?" I ask, and he holds the dark haired woman still, and smiles a bit. "I suppose a bit more fun never hurt anyone." Jaskier says, and I let out a deep sigh before holding my hand out.

"Enjoy your night, Jaskier." Jaskier goes to question hurriedly and I Quickly cut him off. "You know by now Geralt doesn't stick around." I say, and Jaskier sighs as he nods. "I always find you both, Don't I?"

I nod softly, before I slip off out of the doors, passing by Mousesack who's re-entering, and we say nothing as I rush to catch up to Geralt.

It takes moments to navigate in perfect silence, and we find Emir and Roach tucked into a stable. "I'm so ready to be rid of this god forbidden vest." I comment, and Geralt looks at me for a moment.

"You look better than me." He says, and I smile a bit as I give his clothes a look over. "Silk trader." I say, and hop onto Emir, my mind lingers a bit on Jaskier as we leave.

If I have to find him somewhere I will, because he owes me now.

— WEE WOO WEE WOO LONG CHAPTER LONG CHAPTER.

#the witcher #jaskier #the witcher oc #geralt of rivia #the witcher netflix

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