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abluescarfonwaston · 4 years

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Lettenhove Au

Part 1

When somebody loved me.

Geralt was staring at the clothing the staff had placed out for him. It likely wouldn’t fit. Not until they had it significantly tailored. He turned when he heared him enter. Relief. Hope. Fear. He could catalog each emotion perfectly as they flit across Geralt’s face.

He’d had plenty of time to learn.

“You may stay until spring.” He stated. “You will act as my bodyguard until then and in return I’ll make sure you two get safe passage to Skellige. Nilfgaard won’t find you there.”

“Jaskier-“ He started. Stepping towards him in his towel.

“Names are important.”

Everything was beautiful.

“Julian.” He grit like a curse. “Come with us. You hate this place.” He looked around like he expected a monster to jump from the wooden paneling. “I know that.” He said like he meant I know you.

He plastered on the noble smile that was all politeness and cruelty. “Come now. We must all face our fates eventually. You’ve found yours. I have mine.” He pulled his bathrobe from the drawers and handed it to Geralt. “We’ll have your uniform tailored in the morning.”

Every hour we spent together lives within my heart.

“Julek!” His mother crossed the room to hold him in her arms. It always struck him how much smaller and greyer she was even after all these months. “You finally listened to me! Thank you. You’re doing my old heart such a kindness. I know you don’t think you’re in danger but-“

It wasn’t that he didn’t think he was in danger. He just didn’t care. Nilfgaard would overtake them in a year or two anyway. No bodyguard would save him or his people from their destruction.

“Of course Mother. Hired the best of the best. Rest easy.” He kissed her crown and waltzed her back to the desk. “What else needs doing?” Because there was always more that needed doing. Even though he was just a Viscount.

She looked down at stacks of papers that had accumulated on the desk in the years since his Father had passed. Then back up at him. “You’ve done enough for one day.” But not enough to make up for all the days he’d missed. “Will you play for me tonight instead?”

His heart twisted in his feeble chest. Not tonight. He wanted to say. You can burn the fucking lute. Said another part of him.

“Father wouldn’t like that.” He weakly protested.

“I won’t tell him.” She promised. Hope, excitement in her eyes.

His shoulders fell. “Alright. I’ll hold you to that Mum.”

And when he was sad. I was there to dry his tears.

“They took my cloak Geralt! It’s all I had left and they took it and-“

He knocked quietly. They stopped. It opened.

“Jas-“ He cut himself off. “Julian.”

He stepped in around him and closed the door. “In the morning you two will have to play your roles well. You will do your work eagerly and without complaint. Kerack does not have the army to protect you if Nilfgaard realizes you’re here. Lettenhove certainly doesn’t.”

The poor girl look exhausted. On the verge of tears.

He knelt in front of her. “Princess I can’t give you your cloak back but I will send it ahead to Skellige and it will be waiting for you there.”

“Why?” Geralt asked him. “It’s just a cloak.”

He looked at the floor next to Geralt. Keeping him in just the corner of his eye. “It’s Cintrian blue. I could tell that even through the mud. It makes you a target if nothing else. It makes this entire country a target.”

They couldn’t afford to be a target.

He stood to his full height. Turned to Geralt at last.

His hair was shorter now. Matts and dirt and perhaps even lice had necessitated it. A younger version of him would have apologized. Ran his hands through it. Spent hours trying to salvage its length. Geralt kept it long for a reason.

He didn’t know the reason. But he knew there was one. That was enough.

“I promised you a place to stay if ever you could not make it to Kaer Morhen for the winter.” He knew that was why Geralt had come. The trust or hope that despite it all his promise from years ago still held true. “But I’ve also promised to protect these people. Do not make me choose which to uphold.”

His eyes were solemn when he nodded.

And when he was happy so was I.

“Why does your Mother think you need a bodyguard?” He asked when they were alone in his office.

“Dangerous times.” Was all he offered.

He didn’t talk about the assassin who’d pressed the blade to his throat until a kitchen worker had crushed the man’s head with a frying pan. Or the meals that had left him pallid and shaking. He did not explain how court was at least as dangerous as any bog or mountain they’d traversed over the years.

“More heartbroken ladies huh?” Geralt remarked offhandedly.

He stopped reading. Forest. Was the last word. It burned into his eyes.

“Ah yes. I am a cynic, a lecher, a womanizer, and a liar. There is nothing complicated about me.” He echoed Geralt’s words from an inn they’d shared long ago. “How could I forget?”

“Jaskier-“

“You will address me by my title or you will not address me at all.”

“You’re still mad at me.”

Of course I’m still mad. You haven’t even bothered to apologize. You’ve made no effort at all. You’ve shown up at my doorstep pulling favors that you should have lost the right to when you took life’s one blessing. Hissed the part of him that was.

He looked out at the dark varnish of his father’s office. In a few years’ time this place would very likely be his grave as Nilfgaard claimed this land with blood and fire.

He didn’t care.

This place would be his grave and he didn’t care.

It was here or at some cuckholds hands or at the bottom of a bottle of wine.

Death had always nipped at his heels. He was just done running.

“What’s the most important thing in the world?” He’d rambled in Geralt’s direction once. “Friendship.” He’d answered himself. “Friendship and love. Oh and wine.”

Well look how all of that had worked out. His closest friend was a man who did not care for him. Every woman he’d loved he’d cheated on until they could love him no more.

Because he wasn’t made for any of that. Not love. Not friendship.

“Duty. Honor. Our people.” His father had said. “Get your head out of the clouds and think of them.”

At least he always had the wine.

“No.” He answered honestly. The hollow in his chest outweighed the spark of anger a thousand to one. “I know you. I know why you said it. I know the motivations and pain and fears that spurred every word.”

He dipped the quill in the ink-pot and signed. Geralt stayed silent behind him.

“I know you, Geralt of Rivia, perhaps better than you know yourself. So I am not mad.”

He let Geralt brood behind him as he read the next document. Shook his head and moved it to the reject pile. He’d have to write a letter altering the terms later. They didn’t charge Witchers that much for food.

How dumb did they think he was?

“You’re upset. I know it.” Geralt ground his teeth together. “I know you.”

He sighed. He was so tired. “Did you? Do you?” He shook his head. “What do you want Geralt?”

He knew what Geralt wanted. There were several answers and he knew each one.

To keep her safe. Warm. Fed. That was perhaps the most honest answer he could give.

To not be alone. To face raising his daughter on his own this winter without the support of his family. He was terrified and seeking support was another.

I want nothing. He could lie. It was a favorite lie.

“We needed help.” He answered honestly. They did need help. More than he could provide. “And. I missed you Jaskier.”

Did you? Did you miss me? Or just what I provided for you in coin and comfort?

“I will help you, as I have promised.” He began to draft a letter to Baron Oliwier. “But there is no one here by that name.”

He could hear Geralt’s jaw clenching in protest.

“I told you. If I go home I will never come back.” He plotted out the words in careful tongue. “There is no running from destiny. This is mine.”

“Have you given up on poetry then?” Geralt snapped. “You plan on being a miserable old man?”

No. I plan on dying young. He didn’t say.

“You always told me I needed to grow up.”

The fireplace crackled and his quill quietly moved across the page. It sounded like a thousand nights they shared under a starry sky.

And it felt as if he were still all alone in the world.

When he loved me.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #lettenhove au #geralt #jaskier #tw depression #also like not straight up suicidal thoughts but like. being okay with dying.#idk what yall who wanted more expected #He's clearly severely depressed in part one did you think part two was going to be happier?#i'd post this on ao3 but idk how to give it a happy ending yet so not going to til i figure that out #and also if i can finish it #:p #also the only reason i ended up writing part 2 was cause i thought of this song and was like WELP #so.... if you want part three drop me some song suggestion? gr. How to give this a happy ending #writing

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

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Peach Emoji (Part 1)

This is just thicc! Jaskier and horny! Geralt. Somebody take away my keyboard.

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Geralt was, on the whole, a patient and reasonable man. This did not include gwent and sleep deprivation, where he lost absolutely all sense and often a fair amount of coin. But the issue was the bard.

The bard had followed him out of a tavern and into an elven trap and then, for the past three years, had followed him across much of the Continent. And in those three years Geralt had never noticed how…well endowed Jaskier was.

It wasn’t about the size of his staff, which was fine but not far above average. It was, frankly, his ass.

Geralt was an ass man, and Jaskier could have made a fair few jokes about that phrasing, but it was the truth. When he could find a lady of negotiable affection who didn’t stink of fear, he enjoyed gripping soft, round flesh in his hands. With the occasional non-financially-compensated partner he had sometimes sunk teethmarks in, if they were amenable. Geralt was aware that he himself, was blessed with a nice ass, and wore tight pants to highlight it, one of the few flashes of vanity he allowed himself. All this to say, after three years of traveling with the man he was surprised he had never noticed the absolute perfection that was his round and frankly sculpted ass, supported by thick, sturdy thighs.

Strangest of all was that Jaskier seemed almost bashful about it. He would prance about in an undone doublet and a see through chemise, but the second it came to bathing and undressing, which they often did near one another due to the nature of traveling on the road, he became body shy. He would always shuffle about so that Geralt’s back was to him. Geralt of course had never peeked and never would, with his companion so clearly avoiding his gaze. Therefore, although his companion’s inconsistent modesty surprised and amused him, Geralt had really never seen Jaskier without pants until, well.

Geralt had been fighting a kikimore when it lunged at Jaskier. He had been told to stay back, but got too close to the fighting again. The past few weeks had been hot and dry, turning the earth to dust, but there had been a summer storm last night and the ground was covered mud. Geralt tackled Jaskier into a puddle of it, thoroughly covering them both.

He then dispatched the kikimore, collecting the head as proof for the alderman before leading them both to a stream to wash off because,

“Really Geralt. Look at my clothes. I mean, my doublet is ruined. And the pants. I know you don’t mind a little bit of guts and glory but some of us like to be clean!”

Unfazed by near death, but complaining about his clothes, Jaskier stripped down without his usual bashfulness and Geralt stopped cold. The toned chest and strong arms were not new, nor the dark hair of Jaskier’s chest. But he had turned away to wash and he had the most perfect ass. It looked like it had been carved out of marble.

It was probably even better than a marble statue, although admittedly Geralt hadn’t seen very many, not being a huge patron of the arts. But marble statues didn’t dimple as the owner twisted to scrub himself clean, they didn’t have hair dusting the muscled thighs, or occasional moles like dark stars dotting creamy skin. Geralt wanted to grip. Take two handfuls of soft flesh and sculpted muscle and squeeze.

Then Jaskier bent over to scrub mud from a surprisingly delicate ankle and Geralt, victor of a thousand monster fights, lost his footing and fell fully clothed into the stream. It didn’t matter, his clothes needed washed anyway and Jaskier laughed like sunshine while grabbing him by the arm and hauling him with startling strength from the water. They stood chest to chest, an inch of height difference between them and Jaskier looked at him with a hint of knowing in his eyes before turning and going back to washing himself. He called over his shoulder,

“You look flushed, was the fight that hard?”

Geralt, refusing to even think about Jaskier saying ‘hard’ while naked, said,

“Hmmm.”

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The End?

Not anymore. Link to Part 2

#Geralt is an ass man #and a bit of a himbo #thick Jaskier #buffskier #I don't know why I wrote this #but write it i did #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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@slythnerd this came through as a submission and I can’t seem to write a little thank you fic to it without it trying to alter your message. You are an absolute sweetheart for sending this in, thank you. I’ll be sure to be passing this sweetness on to others and keep the game going. Meanwhile, I think you’ve been reading and commenting on Crest of the Wave over on AO3 (I really hope it’s you, the name is similar and the icon is the same). So, hopefully, that means you’re enjoying the Eskel/Lambert/Cahir relationship developing there (and don’t worry, Cahir has one more bad chapter then it will be on the up for a little while). Anyway, here’s some idiot boys.

They met at a fancy dress party Jaskier was hosting. Geralt had invited Lambert and Eskel, knowing they’d get a kick out of dressing up. Sure enough, Eskel was there as a domesticated werewolf to Lambert’s cheery vampire. It was fun and silly, they were messing around with Geralt (wrapped in toilet paper and calling himself a mummy) when Eskel’s head whipped to the side as he spotted something.

“Well hello!” His eyes were zeroed in on a dog on a harness who was happily sat by a man talking to Jaskier. “I have to go say hello. That’s a German Shepherd.”

Naturally, Lambert followed too, intrigued. If someone was so fond of his dog he brought him to a party, he couldn’t be a bad person. It was probably exactly what Eskel was thinking too.

“Lambert! Eskel!” Jaskier waved at them. “Come meet Cahir.”

“We just had to, especially as he seems to have such a handsome companion,” Eskel replied and offered his hand to the dog who ignored him.

“Please don’t fuss him,” Cahir asked softly. It seemed a bit rude but Eskel nodded with a small apology.

Despite the odd start, the three of them seemed to really hit it off. To the point that they agreed to meet at Jaskier’s coffee shop for a drink. It was within walking distance for all of them and it was a place they were all familiar with. Plus, Jaskier could act as a chaperone of sorts to keep things going well. Because it wasn’t like Lambert and Eskel were very subtle about their interest in Cahir. But not everyone was keen on the idea of being invited into an existing relationship as a third.

On the day of the coffee date, Lambert and Eskel piled into the coffee shop a little early, keen to make a good impression. It also meant they got to watch as Cahir arrived, a dog in tow. Interestingly, Jaskier didn’t even bat an eyelid at the fact he had a dog in his coffee shop which was something he usually didn’t tolerate. In fact, he seemed to pretend the dog wasn’t even there, scanning Cahir’s bottle of sparkling water without so much as a glance to the dog.

“We were expecting one handsome companion,” Lambert grinned. “You brought a friend.”

“Yes, well-” Cahir shrugged and looked at his dog.

As far as coffee dates went, it was easy and great. Eskel did shoot a few longing looks to Diesel, wishing he could make a fuss. But Diesel was aloof and so well behaved, ignoring everything in the cafe that wasn’t Cahir. Maybe, with time, he would warm up to them. Which was a heady thought, the idea of Eskel wanting more time with Cahir.

That evening, he and Lambert had a lot more talking to do and they were both relieved they still very much wanted the same thing - namely, Cahir. So they made plans for more dates which were dog friendly. So they went to parks, to outdoor exhibitions, wandering around town too. Diesel was there with them, stuck to Cahir’s side. He was so well behaved, he was even allowed in shops which impressed Lambert to no end.

The only odd thing was that Cahir didn’t always call him Diesel, sometimes Dizzy which even sounded like Dezzy. It was weird but neither Lambert or Eskel commented on it, just happy that they were getting along so well. They even invited Cahir back to theirs for dinner from time to time. Even there, Diesel sat by Cahir in his black harness, looking regal but still not giving Lambert or Eskel the time of day. They still had hope that it would change.

They were back at Jaskier’s coffee shop, Geralt sitting by the bistro area and chatting while Lambert, Eskel, Cahir and Diesel were sat in a corner, quietly chatting. Of late, Cahir had looked a little more tired and drawn, more keen to stay local for their dates. Out of the blue, Diesel started whining and barking softly, dragging at Cahir’s arm. He was insistent, tugging until Cahir looked at his dog with a sigh.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said and got up, making his way to the counter, Diesel glued to his side, all attention on Cahir. A quick exchange with Jaskier and Cahir was allowed into the staff room behind the counter, Jaskier following him in. Even more bizarrely, Geralt took up Jaskier’s spot behind the counter to serve customers.

A little while later, Jaskier emerged, giving Geralt’s shoulder a squeeze before approaching Lambert and Eskel.

“Cahir’s not feeling great. I’ve ordered him a taxi. He says he’s really sorry to bail on you like this.”

Which was weird as fuck but there wasn’t much they could do. Cahir’s barely touched water bottle sat on the table, condensation dripping down its side.

“Does he want his drink?” Eskel asked, not know what else to say.

Jaskier picked it up with a tight smile. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

With that, he returned to the staff room, leaving quiet disappointment and confusion in his wake.

The next couple of dates were better, Cahir apologised for the coffee shop incident and assured them he was alright with a “just one of those things” wave of the hand. Then he cancelled another date, saying he wasn’t having a good day. It was worrying, especially when he had been looking a little under the weather before.

“Why don’t you come over?” Cahir had asked them. “I don’t feel like going out but the house is getting too lonely.”

With that, Lambert and Eskel had an address, a date and time. The excitement at seeing Cahir again, especially in the comfort of his own home was great. They knocked on the door in the evening and were surprised when Cahir opened the door looking drawn and greasy.

“Sorry, come on in.” He was in a thick hoodie and comfortable sweatpants, Diesel by his side, looking alert.

“You make Diesel wear a harness at home too?” Lambert asked.

“Denzel.”

Lambert and Eskel exchanged a glance. They had been convinced the dog was called Diesel. Maybe that’s why Cahir shot them odd looks every now and then when they talked about the dog. Stepping in, they gave Cahir a hug and, as much as it pained them, ignored his dog. There was a soft, low bark from within the house and suddenly, there was another German Shepherd bounding in.

“That’s Diesel. You can play with him if you want.”

Jaw dropping, Lambert looked between the two dogs. “You had two all along?”

Now it was Cahir’s turn to stare at them like they didn’t know. “Yes? They need time off too. They can’t work around the clock.”

It seemed there was a whole realm of miscommunication and Eskel sank to his knees to greet Diesel who seemed all too happy at the attention. It was Lambert who finally asked in a small, hesitant voice, “Working?”

Looking between Lambert and Eskel, Cahir looked a little constipated. “You did realise they’re service dogs, right?” The embarrassed silence gave more answers than words could have. “Ah.”

What followed was a rather awkward conversation, including moments of embarrassed giggling.

“Did you not see the bracelet I wear?”

“I thought it was some cool piece of jewelry, was waiting for you to explain its significance.”

And, “What did you think happened at Jaskier’s?”

“My initial thought was an affair. Or that you’d shit yourself.”

The bracelet was pulled off Cahir’s wrist, and passed to Lambert and Eskel to inspect. They read the words on the metal in silence. “Epilepsy?”

That all too familiar shrug was their reply. “I was doing okay then got a new doctor who decided that the meds I take were too strong, given that I’d been coping so well of late. So he changed it. Which is why I’ve not been doing so great.”

Right on cue, Denzel yipped and yowled, nudging Cahir’s hand. With an apologetic glance at the two, Cahir sank down to the floor.

“You might want to go into the kitchen. There’s drinks in the fridge. I’ll come grab you in a minute.”

Not knowing how else to respond, Lambert and Eskel walked into the kitchen. One glance over their shoulder showed Denzel bell crawling closer to Cahir and pressing under his hand until fingers curled into the fur on his neck.

That night, Lambert and Eskel stayed up late when they got back home, reading up all they could. There were a lot of questions they wanted answers to, easily admitting that they knew squat about epilepsy other than what the media at large occasionally depicted it as. It was a steep learning curve, one that wasn’t a one night of research kind of thing.

“You don’t have a bathtub?” Eskel had asked one evening, Cahir lying in his lap.

“Can’t exactly use it. Almost drowned the last time I tried to take a bath.”

The first time they saw Cahir have a fit, it wasn’t as terrifying as anticipated. In fact, Lambert felt quite calm, all things considered, as he sat by Cahir’s back while Diesel was at his front and Eskel had volunteered to get drinks. When he returned, he say quietly with Lambert, shoulders pressed together in silent support. It was the first time they sat with Cahir like this but it most definitely wasn’t going to be the last.

#eskel/lambert/cahir #eskel/lambert #lambskel #Lambert #eskel #Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach #service dogs #tldr: lambert and eskel are dumb while cahir has epilepsy

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gayregis · 3 years

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this is kind of controversial so bear with me. as a slavic person i really feel like twn kind of “stole a part of our culture” (no not because there are poc, fuck the people who say that) like, the books and games have a really distinct slavic feel to them, even if they are inspired by europe in general, but twn kind of... throws all that out. it feels like just another western fantasy trying to be the next got. quite a few slavs have been trying to bring this to light but it’s greatly overshadowed by the numerous people simply being racist about the cast. this may seem dumb or like “white people pretending to be oppressed” but. slavs don’t really get the best treatment in western media as is and erasing us from one of our best known franchises kind of really sucks.

no i agree with this. i think the stupid fucking racists that are mad that there are actors of color in the series have totally taken this argument into red flag territory so that now it’s dangerous to broach this topic without attracting those freaks.

the witcher adaptation is not ‘slavic’ because it has no cultural reference to poland or any other parts of the region. both in writing and in visual design, it is incredibly generic and bland, as you said: “another western fantasy trying to be the next game of thrones.” this is disappointing and frustrating.

i’ll speak from my perspective as an american witcher fan: i did not know anything about polish culture/language/etc from my public school and postsecondary education. the only time we ever were taught about the region was in education about world war II and the cold war (in which they don’t teach us anything except that “poland must have been weak because it fell so quickly, and it then was part of the big bad soviet union :( ew communism ew”. the closest thing to poland that we learn about is russia (NOT conflating the two, i’m just saying the closest in proximity/language group/etc), and we learn very negative things about russia. and i live in a “liberal” area of the US.

of course i’m nothing near an expert now, but i have learned more from being in this fandom, mostly because i have looked into the publishing of the books, differences between original text and the english translation(s), cultural references and mythology. and of course i have had way more conversations with mutuals/friends from poland than i ever would have if i had not joined the fandom.

things that highlight the witcher books being “polish/slavic” to me, that weren’t in the netflix series at all: writing, humor, character tropes and mythology, specific foods, specific social groups and distinctions (peasantry vs nobility), governmental offices and organization, pacing.

and it seems like it was scrubbed on purpose to make it more ‘palatable’ to a broader american/british audience. ... which didn’t have to happen at all! a lot of what american audiences found interesting about the witcher (mostly demonstrated through the witcher 3) was its “uniqueness” in that it had a lot of cultural references that weren’t familiar to americans - for example the leshens in tw3 were quite popular because not many american fans had ever heard of them before, they sounded like a totally unique concept.

but they intended to take out the “distinct slavic feel” that you describe, ON PURPOSE:

this can be seen with people like alik sakharov running into conflict with lauren hissrich and the overall writing and visual direction:

The first season of Netflix's The Witcher was incredibly successful, but it did undergo a few changes on its way to the small screen, and that included a shift in directors. Alik Sakharov was originally going to direct episodes 1, 2, 7, and 8 of season 1, but only ended up directing episode 2 in full. Marc Jobst would reshoot significant parts of episode 1 and would take over 7 and 8, and up until now, we didn't really know why he departed. Showrunner Lauren S. Hissrich previously commented on his departure, but we finally heard from Sakharov in a new interview, and he broke down what he thought of his work on season 1 and why he ended up leaving

(...) Sakharov talked about the different points of view regarding the approach and vision for the show, and that conflict was the main reason why he left.

“You see, in my perception, Eastern-European literature has a completely different pace," Sakharov said. "It is no coincidence that Andrzej Sapkowski has so many storylines and characters. The producers set the task of setting the adaptation at an action pace and filling it with colorful special effects. That was their vision. My vision was very different and I tried to convey it to them, giving my arguments. Unfortunately, I was not considered convincing enough, so I decided to leave the project.”

The Witcher Director Explains Why He Left The Show

which is just so fucking annoying and disheartening because it’s part of what makes the witcher... the witcher. one can’t deny that sapkowski was largely influenced by the world around him (for better, or for worse... i’m looking at you, wwii antisemitism analogies with elves and dwarves instead...) and that was all taken out.

but they added so much sensationalist stuff to it - violence where it doesn’t make sense / isn’t necessary (the giant genocide that calanthe apparently carried out?), sex and nudity where it doesn’t make sense / isn’t necessary, all while taking away so much of the original text and dialogue, adding in cheap one-liners instead of paragraphs of emotion. the americanization of the media goes hand-in-hand with making it stupider, so it can reach the broadest possible audience to make the most possible amount of money.

and the effect of this is that all of the new fans coming in from the show don’t know anything about this and treat it like american media. one of the ways where this can be seen most prominently is how the fandom ‘affectionately’ nicknames jaskier “jask” ... and treats “buttercup” like a totally different pet name that geralt can call him... when... that’s not how... grammar and words work...

this is one of the reasons that i unironically like the hexer way more as an adaptation of the witcher books. one can’t deny that they’re more truthful to the original work.

before this i’ve also read a little about how the witcher becoming a big thing (not even reaching the western countries yet) was important because before it, only western fantasies like tolkien were considered to “sell well” by publishers so they wouldn’t take their chances with a polish author. it can’t be denied that the witcher is a cultural phenomenon and gave more international representation to poland just overall and in arts/culture. and the netflix series totally washed this all away in their interpretation.

what makes me mad as well is that they had a great opportunity to use traditional polish folk wear / motifs / art in the costume and set design and visual direction of the whole thing, and they just completely did some random bullshit that looks horrible and grotesque (no one looks like they come from the same planet or time period, much less the same continent). it’s not “fantasy,” it’s just random and nonsensical. extremely disappointing considering how much potential they had to consult polish artists, costume designers, historians and medieval scholars. (the witcher doesn’t take place in medieval europe but it is certainly influenced by it, and imo historical direction in series like this are always good for the art.)

it’s also really fucking annoying that the netflix staff think they’re so progressive and amazing for adding in like 5 characters of color that almost all serve to support or antagonize the main white leads. the netflix series isn’t even good representation for people of color by a long shot imo and yet it’s touted by its showrunner as something extraordinary. why can’t we have people of color involved while also keeping what is considered as polishness or slavicness. it’s entirely possible, but netflix didn’t want to do either of those things because it wouldn’t get them as much money.

#ask #anon #the witcher netflix

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hostgalli19 · 3 years

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Once Royal Wolf - Chapter 1: The Perils of Mishandling Superheated Flour

Story Summary: Vesemir had been alive for a long time, he purposefully tried to forget his past. His life before being picked up by Barmin when he was 8 years old and his easy-going and promiscuous ways after start on The Path were times he tried to bury for various reasons.

With the recent changes in Kaer Morhen brought about by Geralt becoming Warlord of the North, he had been focusing on the present and the improvement of the Witchers within the Keep.

With the upcoming Progress to review the Wolf lands and building diplomatic ties having brought up the uncomfortable topic of Rivia. A place he had not been to for centuries.

He hadn’t counted on Ciri digging into his hesitancy and accidentally pulling someone from the past and into Kaer Morhen. Vesemir now has no choice but to face his past and deal with the person he has longed to see for so long.

Chapter Summary: There are downsides to not handling flour correctly

Notes: This story was inspired by my lovely Beta and co-author Randi and I chatting about Vesemir's past and about the things he got up to when he was younger.

This is the original prompt:

Randi: so even though he slept around in his youth and couldn't have gotten women pregnant everyone who kind of looks like him gets accused of being his because his brother had mistresses and bastard children

Me: It would be even better if they were identical with the only difference being a slight difference in eye colour

Randi: In my head the twins were identical

It sort of snowballed from there.

30/08/21: I finally decided to post this story on here. I have been meaning to but haven't gotten around to it until now.

Length: 3,651 words (7 pages)

Link to Ao3:

Date: 05/06/21 - 06/06/21 Time: 1:55 pm - 1:56 am

Today wasn't going well for Vesemir. He had a low-grade headache for the better part of the day that was very quickly turning into a migraine. It was originally caused by a lack of sleep and a series of strange dreams that didn’t quite feel like dreams.

He couldn’t fully remember them once he had woken. Remembering only bits and pieces instead.

Every time he closed his eyes he would see the inside of an expensive carriage. He decided to give up at that point. He wasn’t getting back to sleep. The migraine had gotten worse as the day progressed, small things that usually wouldn’t bother him were irritating him more than usual.

A young pup who had been struggling with the same flaw in his sword forms despite constant correction and hard work. The loud noises of his fellow Witchers as they went about their own training.

The Cranes had started a section on bomb-making with their chicks which resulted in somewhat frequent explosions that felt like they were rattling his skull.

The hustle and bustle of the various servants and inhabitants of Kaer Morhen as they prepared the Keep for the start of the Progress set to begin in a few weeks once the passes and The Killer had fully thawed out. All added to the relentless pounding in his head.

His back and knees were aching due to the lingering cold of the early Spring weather.

He sat down in the office above the Kitchen, resting his tired body and began to work on the mound of paperwork that went with ensuring newly medallion owning Witchers would have what they needed for their first years on the Path and reorganizing pack groups to include rookie Witchers among the Veterans.

Just as he had started to really make a dent, and his headache had started to go away, the rest of the council appeared at his door, bringing their own issues and needs. They still needed to work out who was going with Geralt, Ciri, Eskel, Jaskier and Yennefer on the Progress.

In no time, he was entrenched in discussing and mediating between the various parties and his headache was back with a vengeance. Jan needed input on the number of staff and the Witchers to remain in Kaer Morhen so he could meet the needs of those that remained while everyone was on the Path with the Progress.

At the same time, the same information would be needed to calculate the supplies needed for the Progress.

Livi needed to know how much coin would be needed for each person as well as who exactly would be staying and who would be going so no one would run out of coin and the staff would be where they were most needed.

In addition, she needed to know how often and where the Progress would stop so she could make plans to coordinate with sympathetic Lords and Ladies to ensure the Progress would be supplied as well as giving hosts warning as to when they could expect the Progress to enter their lands.

This would ensure the Hosts were at their best to meet their current and future leaders. Mouse also needed this information so she could place her spies and gather intelligence of the state of the Wolf Lands and the Kingdoms beyond.

Jaskier and Yennefer were trying to convince Geralt that stops outside the Wolf Lands would be equally important to Ciri’s future leadership and diplomatic efforts.

“She needs to be seen, Geralt. Not only as your Heir but a future leader of her people.” Yennefer insisted. Geralt glared at her, not willing to budge, not caring that he was being stubborn. He wasn't going to put his daughter in danger.

“Taking her outside our lands puts her at risk and potentially exposes her to the ongoing tensions and threats in the South. Nilfgaard is pushing towards Sodden and threatening to invade the North.” Geralt snapped.

“It’s bad enough I agreed to this endless nightmare of parties and diplomacy within our own lands; as you have repeatedly insisted it will help us get a better grip on the state of the people and their needs.

In addition, it will help unify the various countries and peoples but we don’t need to be going to other sovereign countries. That is just asking for trouble”

“You already agreed to Aedirn, Wolf” Eskel stated before Yennefer could say anything else.

“That was out of necessity. The only way to keep somewhat peaceful relations with Demavend,” Geralt glanced at Yen and Jaskier.

“As everyone has pointed out, has been to make a diplomatic visit with myself and Ciri present in his capital. I don’t have to like it, but I can tolerate it. However, I draw the line at Aedern.”

“But if we visit the capital of Aedern and don’t don’t go visit Lyria and Rivia, it will be a slap in the face for Queen Maev who has always been supportive of Witchers,” Jaskier added, staring at his husband with a raised eyebrow.

Vesemir’s headache was approaching full-on migraine territory. He paled slightly when Jaskier mentioned Rivia, not enough to be immediately noticeable.

Feeling his heart rate pick up, he thought for sure the other Witchers in the room could hear and scent his distress but so far it had gone unnoticed save for the very observant silent shadow of Ciri.

He smiled wanly at Ciri, hoping it would distract her from his distress.

Vesemir wasn’t… looking forward to visiting Rivia. It had been a long time since he had stepped foot in those lands. He left for good reason and tried to leave the past behind him.

The Progress would be leaving in a few weeks and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that, let alone a trip to the place of his birth.

If improving relations between their neighbour's and aid abroad for Witchers was the benefit and mission of this trip then he wouldn’t stop it.

However, it was something he was hoping to avoid himself as he hadn’t been home in 300 years.

“Vesemir what’s the matter?” Ciri asked. She had indeed noticed how distracted Vesemir had become since he had heard they would be stopped in Rivia for several days.

The others paused in their debate when they heard Ciri’s question. Now aware of Vesemir’s distress, Jaskier, Yen and Eskel became equally concerned.

Vesemir was never this distracted during council meetings and had been fine until this point as far as they could tell.

“Hmm… ah, just concerned as Rivia is very close to Sodden and the trouble with Nilfgaard potentially preparing to invade is all,” Vesemir replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice and scent.

He knew there was a very high chance they wouldn’t believe him. It was a valid concern but not the reason he was actually nervous.

He tried not to wince when he saw the looks the rest of the council were giving him.

“Vesemir, the Mahakam Mountains are to the west and the Desert to the South of Rivia. Poor conditions for the troops of Nilfgaard to march through and cause problems for us. Now, what are you actually worried about?” Eskel questioned, staring at his mentor. It was a very poor lie and the man clearly knew it.

Vesemir sighed, he looked like he was about to say something when there was a loud explosion from below, the force was enough to make the floor shake.

Vesemir grabbed his wine goblet and inkpot before wine and ink could end up on his paperwork, that was a mess he didn’t want to have to clean up.

“What the hell? The Cranes know better than to practice inside or near the Keep itself!” Vesemir snapped, getting up, using the explosion as a distraction from the inquiry he was suddenly facing.

“I’m going to have words with Einri and Byrtel.” He marched towards the door, having to back away when the door suddenly opened.

Letho stalked into the room dragging the completely flour-covered Crane Trainees Konrad and Rafal followed by a somewhat messier than usual Julita.

The three Witchers were coated from head to toe in flour. Letho’s scowl showed he was clearly not pleased with the two boys. Julita looked like she wanted to strangle Konrad and Rafal as well but was also struggling to hold back laughter at the same time.

Seeing the scowl on not only Letho’s face but Vesemir’s as well, the boys immediately tried to speak in their defence, only succeeding in talking over each other.

“We didn’t mean for it to go off in the kitchen. Please don’t punish us” Rafal pleaded.

“We meant to take it outside. I don’t understand why it went off in the kitchen,” Konrad added at the same time.

“Shut up” Letho growled glaring down at the two trainees. The boys' mouths quickly snapped closed. He had just stepped foot into the kitchen on his way to the hot springs to get a quick bite to eat and to see how Julita’s newest creation was coming along.

He had wanted to see if she had figured out the solution yet when Konrad and Rafal started to drag the very clearly overfilled bag of flour from the pantry and across the kitchen.

They obviously weren’t going as quickly as they would have liked. Julita had been on the way to the door to greet him when the bag of flour exploded from the friction.

Letho’s quick reflexes were the only reason he managed to get between Julita and the fireball caused by the superheated flour.

“What the hell happened?” Jan demanded, staring at the flour-covered trainees. They were burned in a few places and appeared to be bleeding a little from where their skin had cracked open from the heat of the explosion.

Letho was also a little singed but Julita, thankfully, looked perfectly fine though clearly very amused by how scared the two trainees were of her Uncle.

“These two idiots were dragging an overfilled sack of flour through the kitchen and it blew up. The flour somehow caught on fire. You're very lucky no one else was injured given the size of the fireball,” Letho growled in answer for the boys, now cowering not only from Letho’s anger but a very stern Jan as well.

Every Witcher, fully trained or not, knew to never mess with the human staff whether directly or indirectly. Just then, two older Cranes burst through the open door of Vesemir’s now very crowded office.

“Is everyone alright?” They immediately queried.

“We heard the explosion near the kitchens and just wanted to make sure everyone was unharmed.

“Ah, Einri, Byrtel so nice you could join us,” Letho growled when the two Cranes appeared. They looked a little concerned when they saw the state of the two boys and paled slightly at Letho’s words. Bad things happened when Letho was pissed.

“What on earth were you two doing, overfilling and dragging 50lbs of flour across the kitchen?” Byrtel questioned. He and Einri had told the boys to fill two five-pound containers they had been given with flour. Using what would commonly be on hand, they had to find a way to create bombs just using flour, cloth and string soaked in oil as these were items they would often have on the Path.

“This, boys, is why we told you to be careful in the kitchen and exactly why you shouldn’t overfill the bags of flour. The friction from the bag being dragged across the stone floor and it being pressurized from being overfilled caused it to explode.

The force of the explosion was likely the cause of the fireball. We’ve talked about the importance of keeping substances under pressure from exploding.

Next time pick the bag up,” Byrtel explained, not once taking his eyes off Letho who looked like he was contemplating strangling not only him but any Crane who stepped across his path.

While it was true Letho had mellowed out a little since he had rescued Julita he was still dangerous. Every Witcher and Human in Kaer Morhen knew Letho was very protective of his niece.

Anyone who hurt Julita had to face Letho and if they did hurt her they knew what was going to happen to them once Letho found out.

With his pounding migraine and the inquisition he was surely going to face from the Council for his previous distress prior, Vesemir decided to use this argument as a distraction and beat a hasty retreat from the room.

Now would be the perfect time to head to his quarters, make the room as dark as possible and lay down to wait for his migraine to go away.

He might even be able to catch up on the sleep he had missed the night before. Surely his anxiety around visiting Rivia was an overreaction to not getting enough sleep.

300 years was a long time and nothing was the same as it once was. Right?

End Note: Yes, I know this isn't the entire chapter. This chapter is almost 7 pages long. If you would like to read the rest of the chapter you can find it on Ao3 via the link at the top of the post.

#The Witcher #geralt z rivii #vesemir #inspired by AWAU by Inex #My Ao3 Witcher Stories

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt. 14/25

____________

Jaskier ran down the corridors of Dol Blathanna. His guitar case was slung haphazardly over his shoulder and books were on the verge on tumbling out of his satchel. His blasted alarm hadn’t gone off this morning, although that was probably his own fault for getting so caught up in his book that he’d forgotten to set the alarm before falling asleep with the book still in his hands. Luckily for him he’d still woken up at a vaguely reasonable time and on any normal day he would have made it into school before his class had started to arrive.

Unfortunately it wasn’t an ordinary day.

An email had been sent out to all the faculty the night before from the school board, calling a meeting in the school hall before class started.

And he was already late.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He muttered as he ran. A book flew from his satchel as he turned the corner in the corridor. “Oh cock!”

He turned on his heels and ran to gather up his book only for two more to fall out of his bag along with several loose sheets of paper.

“Shit!” He grabbed another one of his books but his foot caught on one of the bits of paper.

It all happened in slow motion.

His legs were suddenly up in the air and he landed, quite painfully, on his arse. His guitar case dropped heavily on the floor next to him, strings twanging in the case and his heart sunk as he heard a sickening crack of wood.

“Bollocks!” He groaned and scrambled to open his case.

Sure enough the neck of the guitar had broken and the strings were the only thing keeping it together.

“No no no!” He stood up and kicked the case. “Fuck!”

That was all he needed. It was bad enough that the rest of his instruments were currently in storage whilst his landlord managed to sort out the repairs to the apartments. He was incredibly lucky that none of them had been damaged in the fire. Geralt’s team had gotten the fire under control quickly and the blaze hadn’t managed to spread much further than the third floor. A few of his neighbours from the fourth floor had lost some of their furniture and the flooring had been toasted but Jaskier had had a lucky, if not humiliating escape. Unfortunately he wasn’t allowed to stay in his flat whilst they made repairs. There were concerns that the ceiling below his flat sustained some damage, making his home unfit to live in.

He was currently staying with Triss in her little bungalow. He was lucky she had a guest room and allowed him to bring his guitar along with him but she’d put her foot down at his wider instrument collection, he had said goodbye to his precious lute with a heavy heart as he’d locked his storage unit.

He was less lucky that she hadn’t thought to wake him up this morning.

He scooped up the remains of his guitar and zipped up the case. He didn’t have time to mourn. This time he was smart enough to close his satchel properly too and he scurried towards the school hall. He pushed the heavy door open as quietly as he could and slipped inside. A woman stood at the front of the hall where Stregobor would normally stand.

How peculiar.

She glared fiercely at him and he muttered an apology and ran to find a seat.

“As I was saying.” The woman continued, still holding his gaze in a death stare. He swallowed nervously as he begun to wonder whether he’d been cursed today. Nothing had gone his way so far. “We have received several alarming reports regarding your headmaster. Therefore, the board has made the decision to temporarily suspend Mr Ban-Ard whilst we conduct an investigation into his behaviour.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile.

They’d done it.

The whole case had blown up just before half-term. Jaskier and several of the other faculty members had written some very strongly worded emails to the school board to highlight the nasty goings on in the school. He was aware that Yennefer Vengerberg had also been involved. Istredd had told them with a very smug smile on his face. Jaskier supposed he’d finally pulled his head out his arse and done something about that ridiculous crush of his.

Two weeks into the new term and they’d gotten rid of the pervert. He wanted to cheer.

“Furthermore.” The woman said sharply. “We were also made aware of other members of staff supporting Mr Ban-Ard’s views in his treatment of women. I’m sure you will have noticed that not all your colleagues are in the room.”

There was a rumble of noise as everyone looked around. Jaskier met Triss’s eyes and she seemed relieved to see him. He scanned the room looking for his nemesis.

“Oh this is good.” He mumbled to himself, barely able to keep his excitement contained.

Valdo Marx was absent.

He grinned and linked his fingers in his lap. Maybe he wasn’t cursed after all.

“They have also been suspended until we can ensure that they are not able to use their influence as teachers to encourage this sort of behaviour in our students.” The woman continued with a rather sinister smile. It would have been sexy if it wasn’t so darn right terrifying. She reminded him in many ways of Yennefer.

“Of course, if nothing is proven against those who have been suspended then they will be allowed to continue teaching. In the meantime I’d like to introduce you to Mr Filavandrel Fidháil and Mr Mousesack Ermion. They will be filling in for Mr Marx and Mr Degerlund. I do trust that you will treat them both with the utmost respect. Finally, Ms de Vries will be acting as your new headmistress for the time being. If there are any problems she will be reporting to me directly.”

After a few more minutes the woman in charge let them go and the room burst into noise as everyone began to gossip about what had happened. Of course, by now everyone knew about the whole affair. When one teacher knew something then it was only a matter of time before the whole school knew. Jaskier found Triss first, wanting to catch up on what he’d missed.

“You’re awake then.” She teased as he approached.

He put his hands on his hips. “No thanks to you!”

“I thought you were just being slow.” She defended herself. “We both know you’re not a morning person, Jaskier.”

He waved his hands dismissively. “I’m a great person in the mornings!”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“It just has to be with the right person.” He smirked.

She rolled her eyes and hit him on the arm. “Gross.”

He laughed. “I know. I know!” He whined. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a while.”

“Still pining after your sexy fireman?”

“Not my fireman.” He grumbled. “and I am yearning! I am dying of thirst.”

“Can’t believe you were late!” Triss giggled. “I thought Philippa was going to kill you!”

He frowned as he tried to recall the name. He was certain that none of the staff were called Philippa. He’d even written a song to help him remember all of their names. “Who?”

“Philippa Eilhart, the person we’ve been listening to for the last fifteen minutes?”

“Ooohh.” He nodded. “I was just calling her. ‘The Woman’”

“Very ominous.”

“Maybe she’ll be the next star of my new song.” He pondered. “She certainly knew how to control a room.” He went to pull his guitar case round to his front but he froze as he felt the broken wood beneath the leather. “Bollocks!” He moaned. “I’ll never write again!”

Triss rolled her eyes as they reached her desk at the front of the school. “Are you sure you’re not one of your six year olds?”

“My guitar broke!” He pulled out the dead instrument and laid it forlornly on her desk. “I fell. Just look at it.” He cried. “And all my other instruments are still in storage! I can’t bring my lute into class everyday, it’s too fragile and far too expensive. I need my guitar!”

Triss patted him patronisingly on the shoulder. “Chin up, Buttercup. Maybe your fireman will by you a new one.”

He gaped and stumbled backwards at her remark. “Not. My. Fireman!” He pointed at her accusingly. “You are the actual worst, Triss Merigold. No wonder Yennefer loves you.”

She smirked. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“It’s not.”

“Now kindly get your precious instrument—”

“Dead instrument.”

“—off of my desk. I’ve got to work.” She finished with a pointed look.

He sighed and picked up his guitar. The kids would be here soon and he needed to get ready for the day.

________________________

Ciri was crying and once again Jaskier had decided that he’d been cursed.

The beginning of the day had gone smoothly after his guitar incident. They were picking up their numbers excellently and they’d even begun to write little short stories of their own. Jaskier was incredibly proud of his young authors. Once their stories were finished, the kids were going to split into groups and act out each one. It was all fun and games and the arts really help to improve their imaginations and confidence. They had been sad when he told them that they wouldn’t be singing along to his guitar today but Kayleigh had suggested that the could make their own instruments which Jaskier thought was a fabulous idea. After lunch they were going to be making tissue box guitars if he could raid the supply cupboard and collect all the tissues into one box. As long as the cleaners didn’t spot him then he would be fine.

Probably.

Although knowing how this day was going he would be caught and lose his job.

But that was neither here nor now. Right now he had one screaming child on his hands.

She had forgotten her lunchbox and it wasn’t a Friday so Geralt hadn’t given her money for a hot lunch.

“I’m going to starve!” She cried in between sobs.

He wondered, for a moment, whether his love for dramatics was rubbing off on his children in a bad way.

He knelt down in front of her so he was at her level. “Ciri, look at me, Buttercup.”

She sniffed but met his eyes. Her cheeks were tearstained and her eyes were red and puffy. He tilted his head and opened his hands in front of him so that she could take them, if she wanted, which she did.

“Do you trust me, Ciri?” He asked softly and she nodded. “Good. Now I promise you that I won’t let you go hungry.”

“But my lunchbox!” She sobbed.

“I know.” He nodded and squeezed her hands. “But we can fix it. Ok?”

She nodded and chewed at her lip.

“I can either call your father and get him to bring your lunch box.” She scrunched up her nose.

“No he’ll hate me!” She cried. “It’s all my fault and he’ll send me away!”

Jaskier took a deep breath to calm himself. Geralt would never abandon Ciri like that and it broke his heart that she would think that, but it was so easy to forget the circumstances that brought her to Geralt in the first place.

“Oh Ciri. It’s ok to be frightened but I promise you that Geralt would never do that.” He stumbled backwards as she threw her arms around him and cried more into his chest. “Come on, let’s get to Reception and we can call your father.”

“Nooo.” Ciri whined into his chest.

Jaskier was going to offer to pay for her lunch for the day as a second option, he knew Geralt would pay him back. Not that he wanted Geralt to pay him back, he still felt indebted to the man after the fire, but he couldn’t be seen to be favouring Ciri by paying for her lunch. It didn’t matter anyway. Ciri needed to see her father wouldn’t leave her so he wasn’t even going suggest the hot lunch option.

He pulled her gently to her feet and extracted himself from her arms and then turned to face the rest of the class.

He waved to get everyone’s attention before talking, signing as he went. “I’m just going to Reception, with Ciri. I’ll ask Mr Fidháil to take you to the dining room. You’ll be good for him won’t you?”

The class chorussed their agreement with the exception of Marilka who grinned cheekily and said ‘No’.

He tilted his head in her direction and gave her a warning look. “What was that, dear Buttercup?”

She giggled. “Yes, Mr Jaskier!”

“That’s what I thought.” He shook his head. She was certainly a handful. “Come along now Ciri.”

He crossed the hall to Filavandrel’s room and asked him to keep on eye on his class whilst he went to the reception with Ciri. It would have been much easier if he could have just called Geralt on his own phone but that would have raised questions and ones he wasn’t prepared to answer.

“Mr Pankratz? Ciri?” Triss asked, surprised by their appearance. By the looks of it she’d just been packing up to head to lunch herself when they’d arrived.

“Can you call Geralt?” He asked. “Ciri has forgotten her lunch.”

Triss nodded and pulled up Geralt’s number on her screen. She was about to pick up the receiver when Jaskier stopped her.

“I can talk to him. Please.” He pleaded.

She was too professional to call him out in front of one of his students, especially Ciri, but he could see the mischievous glint in her eyes. He’d have to pay for that one later once the kids were on break. She dialled the number and passed him the receiver. “Thanks.” He muttered and smiled down at Ciri reassuringly.”

The phone rang a few times before Vesemir picked up to announce the fire station. Triss must have used Geralt’s work number.

“Ah. Vesemir isn’t it?” He stammered, unprepared to speak to not Geralt.

“That’s correct. What can I help you with? If it’s an emergency you need to call the emergency line.” Vesemir sounded tired, that was a relatable feeling.

“Oh no. No. Umm. Hi. I’m Jaskier Pankratz.”

“Geralt’s Jaskier?”

He blushed. “Umm. Well. I wouldn’t say that exactly.”

“Bath tub Jaskier?” Vesemir chuckled and he realised the older fireman was teasing him.

“Ah yes. That would be me.” He agreed reluctantly. “Is Geralt there?”

“Why?” Vesemir asked sternly.

“Ciri forgot her lunch today. I was wondering whether he could drop it off. It really is quite important!” Vesemir hummed in response.

Well wasn’t that very Geralt like?

Perhaps they really were like family.

Unfortunately, Jaskier wasn’t fluent in Vesemir’s grunts like he was with Geralt. “So is that a yes?”

“He’ll be there shortly, unless we get a call.”

Jaskier grinned. “Of course. Thank you Vesemir!” He replied but it was too late. The other man had already hung up the phone.

Ciri tugged at his arm. “Is that Uncle Vesemir?” She asked.

“It was, Ciri, your father is on his way. Shall we go wait in the lunch hall so the others can start to eat?”

She nodded with a sad smile.

“Tell Geralt we’ll be in the lunch hall!” He called back to Triss as he walked back to his classroom with Ciri.

“Will do.” Triss replied, Jaskier could practically hear the her eyes rolling.

He gathered the rest of class and bundled them into the lunch hall. They were later than he would have liked and his own break time would be cut short because of it but it was a risk of teaching a younger class. He couldn’t just let them wonder around the school on their own. At least he wasn’t on break duty this week. He hated break duty. It wasn’t so bad in the summer term but in the spring it could still be cold and it meant that he didn’t get a real break until he got home. He was, however, on after school pick up duty which meant he’d have to stay late.

Sometimes he’d stay late to finish off some marking at his desk, he didn’t really enjoy bringing his work back home, it made it harder for him to switch off when he was ready to relax in the evenings, but that was a choice. He hated being forced to stay late.

He sighed as Ciri ran off to join her friends. He browsed the hot food options but nothing really tickled his fancy so he picked up a cheese and onion sandwich instead. Sadly, being the beginning of the week there wasn’t a good dessert option. Fridays were the best for that. They always had chocolate cake with chocolate custard on Fridays. He reluctantly picked up an orange instead of a bowl of goopy rice pudding.

He wasn’t a fan of the rice pudding.

He was half way through his sandwich when Geralt arrived. Ciri ran over to him and he picked her up and spun her around as if she weighed nothing more than a feather.

Then again, Geralt had also picked him up like he weighed nothing and he was a lot larger than Ciri.

He snapped himself out of that train of thought before he ended up daydreaming about all the different ways Geralt could throw him about, preferably up against a wall, and walked over to the pair.

“Mr Pankratz.” Geralt greeted him as Ciri tugged her lunchbox from his hands.

“Geralt. Hi.” He flashed the fireman a dashing smile as the ashen-haired girl ran away to eat her lunch. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice her lunchbox.” Geralt replied sheepishly. “It won’t happen again.”

“Nonsense.” Jaskier waved it off, Geralt could forget to notice more often if it meant he would come in to visit. “But I am worried about something Ciri said.”

Geralt frowned and Jaskier launched into an explanation of her tantrum and her fears about Geralt sending her away. “I know we agreed that she didn’t need to see anyone at the start of the term, but this isn’t the first time she’s overreacted when she thinks someone might leave her.”

“She’s just a kid.” Geralt huffed.

Jaskier nodded. “I know, my dear, but Ciri’s lost a lot already. I think she may have some form of rejection sensitivity.” Something Jaskier knew far too well. “It would do her good to be able to work through that with someone.”

Geralt pressed his fingers to his forehead. “It’s because I work too much. I can’t spend enough time with her anymore.”

Jaskier resisted the urge to hug his friend. “No. Geralt. No.”

“It was fine during Summer. We had a better routine. I could take her to see Roach every weekend. Now we’re lucky if we get to both go once a month. I rarely get weekends off anymore and she can’t go during the week. Poor Coën sees more of her than I do.”

“It’s not your fault, Geralt.” Jaskier said softly, his teacher voice seeped in slightly but it was hard to turn that off at school. “You never expected to be a single parent.”

Geralt just grunted in response.

“Just promise me you’ll consider what I’ve said, my dear.” Jaskier implored.

Geralt hummed.

“A promise needs words, Geralt.” Jaskier rolled his eyes at the fireman.

“I’m not a child, Jaskier.” Geralt grumbled but sighed when Jaskier put his hands on his hips and gave him a pointed look. “Fine. I promise I’ll think about it.”

“Excellent!” Jaskier clapped his hands together. “Now off you pop. I’m sure those wolves of yours will be missing you White Wolf.”

“Who told you about that?” Geralt snarked.

“Not telling!” He grinned.

It had been Lambert. After they’d met in the coffee shop, Lambert had asked for Jaskier’s autograph when Geralt had been distracted on his phone. Jaskier had happily scribbled on the back of a napkin and the pair had exchanged numbers in case the band ever decided to play live then Lambert would be one of the first to know. They didn’t talk much but Lambert did enjoy sharing embarrassing stories of Geralt at work. Jaskier had even been invited to hang out with Lambert and his brother one evening. It had been a little awkward at first but Jaskier had always had a talent for making friends and he found that he enjoyed Lambert and Eskel’s company rather a lot. It had been nice to make some new friends outside of work and his band.

“Jaskier.” Geralt almost growled which made his brain dive straight into the gutter.

Honestly, the way Geralt said his name should be illegal.

He couldn’t resist a wink at the fireman. “Allow me to have my secrets, dear heart.”

Geralt froze at the nickname that slipped out.

Fuck.

He hadn’t meant to say that. He didn’t even know where it came from normally he just stuck with ‘my dear’ or ‘darling’ both could easily be excused as Jaskier just being flamboyant, but ‘dear heart’? He couldn’t exactly hide his feelings with that one.

Fuck!

Geralt just smirked, and to the gods was it sexy. “Fine.”

“Good!” Jaskier stammered.

“But.” Geralt leaned a little closer and Jaskier could almost feel the tickle of breath against his ear. His heart was thundering in his chest and he felt like he was going to pass out. “You still owe me that drink.” Geralt whispered so that no one else could hear.

Jaskier’s cheeks lit up and his buried his face in his hands. “Geralt!” He chided. “I am working. Go on. Shoo!”

Geralt laughed but strode out of the school hall. Jaskier’s fingers twitched by his side, desperately needing to pluck away at non-existent strings.

He nervously looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed the interaction but everyone seemed to be engrossed in their lunches.

Thank Freya for that.

He managed to finish up his lunch in record time and the kids were all eager to go outside and play. He decided to spend his break at his desk. He couldn’t face Triss right now. He just knew she was going to corner him about Geralt and he didn’t have the energy to deal with that right now.

Maybe he could go for a nap?

He glanced at the clock at the back of the classroom.

He still had twenty five minutes. He could absolutely have a nap and the school bell would wake him up before his class came back inside.

He sighed and rested his head on his arms. It wasn’t comfortable but he was done and it was only fucking lunchtime.

He moaned into his desk.

Maybe if they could just keep the flirting to a minimum until summer then everything would be alright. Once he was no longer Ciri’s teacher then he couldn’t really be accused of doing anything wrong.

At this point he was certain that Geralt liked him back. He’d never seen the fireman flirt so openly around anyone else, he’d expected something around Renfri but really their whole vibe was more like siblings than anything else. He spoke fondly of Yennefer but again there didn’t seem to be any lingering chemistry between them, although that could very well be wishful thinking on his part, but he was good with people and he knew when people were flirting with him.

Geralt was definitely flirting with him

No matter how many times they both insisted what they were doing was just things that friends do.

He thought back on how his friendship with Geralt had grown. Starting with the clandestine meetings after school/work to discuss Ciri’s progress and the extra emails back and forth during the week, then after Solstice and he’d given Geralt his number leading to them occasionally hanging out in coffee shops whilst Ciri was at her Ukulele lessons with Pris and the infrequent evening phone calls if one of them had something to say that couldn’t wait until school time.

He swallowed.

Then the fire.

It had shaken him up more than he would have expected when he couldn’t put any weight on his ankle. He had been beginning to think he was going to burn naked in the bath and he really hadn’t wanted to greet the gods like that.

But Geralt had appeared like his own guardian angel. He’d been hoping Geralt would turn up but it could have easily been any of the wolves. Geralt had saved his life though. He would never forget that, even if his crush turned out to be just a fleeting moment in his life and they ended up passing like ships on an ocean.

They’d talked more frequently after that. Jaskier had had trouble sleeping the first few nights and Geralt seemed more than happy to stay up late talking to him in the evenings. Jaskier had even fallen asleep a few times whilst Geralt was still on the phone but he hadn’t seen Geralt in person since the fire.

And he missed him.

Fuck, he missed him.

Jaskier bumped his head against his desk a few times in frustration and then a thought hit him like a train.

They were dating.

The stolen moments after school, the emails, the phone calls and coffee shop dates.

They were fucking dating.

And no one else thought to let them know!

“Shit, shit, shit!” He shot to his feet and began pacing around the room and then yelled in frustration. He needed his guitar, or his lute or something!

He tore through the drawers of his desk looking for a spare notebook. He must have one somewhere. “Come on, come on, come on!” He muttered but there nothing expect the work books of the kids.

His fingernails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists.

What was he going to do?

They’d just been lying to themselves this whole time.

He had to cut it off. No more reckless meetings. No more evening phone calls.

And absolutely no flirting!

He could do that. He was a professional and Geralt was a parent. He just had to treat Geralt like any other parent. He fell in and out of love all the time. This would be easy. If he had any concerns about Ciri he would ask Triss or Tissaia to relay them. There was no need for him to get involved personally, except for parents’ evening and his weekly emails. Geralt probably wouldn’t even noticed. Geralt hadn’t noticed they were dating so he wouldn’t notice if Jaskier pulled away.

The plan formulated in his head, his hands tugging on the bottom of his shirt as he steadfastly ignored the pain in his heart.

No more gossiping with Triss over Geralt’s quite frankly sinful body, which was a shame because their friendship had really grown since Geralt had come into their lives. He hoped their new found camaraderie would last. It was good to have a partner in crime at the school. It had made his break times a lot more entertaining.

No more hot and heavy dreams.

Ok, maybe he couldn’t control that one but he would scold himself for it in the morning!

And he had to get a grip on this! Two of his colleagues had already been suspended just for expressing misogynistic views. If either of them dared to mention his chats with Triss about Geralt as part of their defence then he was a goner and he loved his job, he loved his kids.

His heart felt like it was burning in his chest but it was too late.

He’d made his decision.

If Geralt forgave him for this maybe they could try again in the summer.

He scoffed.

Why would Geralt forgive him? He didn’t deserve that. He’d led him on all year and, if he was right, he was going to break his heart just to save his own career.

He was a fucking idiot. ___________________

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #cirilla fiona elen riannon #minor angst #you set my heart ablaze #modern au #teacher!jaskier #fireman!geralt #teacher au #wolfie's witcher writing

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mordoriscalling · 3 years

Text

Life (of) Surprise (4/6)

Jaskier lies to his family about being engaged to Geralt for the second time… and there are way too many surprises involved.

Part 4 of the Singer and the Sailor AU that no one asked for but I wrote anyway (again). The chapter count went up again because I just can’t stop writing this story lmao.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

IV - A Surprise Discovery

Geralt is certain that a stag do shouldn’t involve this much crying.

The evening started innocently enough. They have had a room rented at a fancy club and they’re drinking, talking and playing cards. Geralt would rather do this at home but Lambert and Eskel told him not to be so “tragically boring”, hence the current arrangement.

Geralt’s been spending the day with “the guys”: Eskel, Lambert, Aiden, Vesemir, as well as his soon-to-be brother-in-law Silvio and not-quite soon-to-be brother-in-law Nasir. Jaskier, on the other hand, is away partying with “the girls”: Rozalia, Amelia, Triss, Essi and Yennefer.

Geralt hasn’t heard from Jaskier in a few hours, so he assumes his soon-to-be husband (only two months left to the wedding, and isn’t that a thought) is enjoying himself. Geralt, for his part, is having fun too; the stag do isn’t a disaster at all.

Then, it gets better.

Because Eskel is crying.

They were talking about Essi, commenting on what a lovely person she is. Although she’s not exactly Geralt’s type (he’s into people who are more... feisty), he still agrees that she’s a great woman – loving, warm, intelligent and beautiful inside out. Vesemir commented that there had to be many people mourning the fact that she was taken.

Eskel, upon hearing this, started weeping.

“Should we tell him?” Aiden, sitting beside Geralt, murmurs to Lambert.

“Nah,” Lambert replies gleefully.

They watch as Eskel sheds tears, mumbling about how much he’s in love with Essi but he wouldn’t dare to ruin her current relationship because she deserves happiness and –

To be fair, they have drunk a lot at this point.

Silvio and Nasir are clearly holding back their laughter. Lambert doesn’t even bother and guffaws freely, to which Eskel pays no mind, so lost he is in his despair. Aiden hides his face in the crook of Lambert’s neck, his shoulders shaking.

Vesemir seems more tired and sick of their shit than usual, though sparks of amusement dance in his eyes.

“I wasn’t aware this relationship makes you cry,” he tells Eskel gruffly, playing along.

“It does!” Eskel whines, “I should be her boyfriend.”

Vesemir’s lips tremor but he manages to keep his cool as he asks, “And what’s her boyfriend’s name?”

Eskel opens his mouth to respond but he says nothing. His brow creases in thought – it’s visible how the wheels are turning in his head – and then the moment comes when something clicks in his brain.

“Wait,” he says, understanding slowly dawning in his face.

At this, everyone at the table collectively loses it. Geralt is laughing so hard he’s slapping his thigh. Silvio and Nasir are in convulsions. Lambert and Aiden are leaning against each other, wheezing. Vesemir has to wipe the tears out of his eyes.

Eskel is too happy at the discovery to even notice the amusement at his expense. “I am her boyfriend!” he exclaims with wonder. Letting out a joyful chuckle, he repeats, “I’m her boyfriend!” He reaches for the bottle of vodka on the table. “We should drink to this!”

At the same time, Vesemir answers, “No.” and Aiden replies, “Yes!”

Vesemir plucks the bottle from Eskel’s hands and says, “You’ve had enough for now, pup.”

Lambert starts arguing and Geralt rolls his eyes. He then proceeds to drag his older brother to the side and force a lot of water and some food into him. While he does this baby-sitting, the phone in his pocket rings. As Geralt pulls it out, he’s surprised to find Jaskier’s name displayed on the screen. Slightly worried, he picks up.

“Hey, my loveliest sailor,” Jaskier slurs, his voice unsteady and watery. “Can I –” A sniff. “Can I come?”

Geralt frowns, bemused. “Shouldn’t we spent this night apart?”

“Fuck that,” Jaskier grumbles, “I miss you.”

“You haven’t seen me in five hours.”

“So?” Jaskier asks. “I just... want to see you. Please?”

Jaskier sounds downright miserable. Geralt has nearly come to terms with the fact that he may never master the art of telling Jaskier no but he's not fully resigned to his fate yet.

“Okay,” he answers.

“Are sure, darling? I won’t come if you don’t want to, you know,” Jaskier babbles nervously, “I don’t want to make you do anything you–”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighs, “it’s fine, come here and bring the rest.”

Ever since their argument three months ago, Jaskier takes extreme care not to do anything without Geralt’s knowledge and consent. He keeps asking about every little idea, fretting and worrying whether he’s not overstepping. Most days, that’s the reassurance Geralt needs to keep believing in Jaskier's words. It does get tiring sometimes, though.

“All right.” Jaskier’s voice goes from resonating from the darkest depths of sadness to cheerful as the sun on a spring day in the span of those two words. “We’ll be there soon, my dearest.”

Geralt hums and hangs up.

After fifteen minutes more of trying to turn Eskel into a more or less functioning human being, Geralt witnesses the other stag do party members arrive. Jaskier opens the door to the room with a bang, his arms spread wide and a grin on his face.

“Geralt!” he exclaims and walks towards him with a prominent stagger in his step.

Before Geralt knows it, he has his arms full of drunk Jaskier. His fiancé peppers kisses all over his face and mumbles something nonsensical while Geralt holds him up, a smile tugging at his lips under all the loving attention.

In the corner of his eye, he can see the rest greeting each other, apart from Yennefer and Triss, who are watching him and Jaskier with a judgemental and an amused look respectively.

“Why are you here?” he asks Yen as Jaskier finally stops kissing him and embraces him instead.

“He was crying about how much he loves you,” she replies with an eye roll.

Triss snickers. “He was telling everyone about it, and I mean it. He wanted everyone in the club to know.”

Geralt stifles a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yennefer and Triss laugh. Jaskier raises his head and blinks up at him owlishly.

“Something wrong, my gorgeous sailor?” he asks.

Geralt really bemoans the fact that even a single look from Jaskier can affect him considerably.

“No, siren,” he sighs, “We should join the rest.”

They ask the staff to bring another table and more chairs, and soon, everyone is sitting comfortably, talking, playing and drinking. Everyone except Essi when it comes to the last part, at least; Geralt quickly notices that she doesn’t touch any alcohol. She claims that she simply doesn’t feel like drinking but Eskel, who sits beside her, starts fretting, concerned that she’s ill.

“I’m fine,” she assures him.

“You sure?” he asks, “You haven’t been feeling well recently. Maybe you should see a doctor?”

Geralt’s the only one watching the exchange, as everybody else is occupied with the ongoing conversation about the rules of Monopoly. He sees hesitation in Essi’s face. She bits her lip, seemingly considering something for a moment, but then looks up at Eskel and smiles. “I think I should,” she replies, “seeing that I’m pregnant.”

Geralt freezes in shock. Eskel’s brain visibly short-circuits.

“The fuck. But we –” he stammers out, “Why, I mean, how –”

“I don’t know,” Essi answers, her eyes wide and apprehensive, “I really have no idea.”

Eskel nods slowly, his expression still absolutely flabbergastered. “Fuck,” he says, with much feeling.

Essi looks at him closely, uncertainty colouring her lovely face. “I know this very unexpected and you never wanted a family but perhaps we can... talk about it? We don’t have to keep it but I –”

Eskel seems to finally snap out of his shocked state. “Essi, no,” he says quietly, taking her face in his hands, “I never let myself have a family, but now that the baby is here... Holy fuck,” he breathes out, one of his palms moving to touch her abdomen. “There’s a baby here?” he asks, his voice cracking. She nods with a watery smile, and he takes her into his arms. His whole frame is shaking now, and there’re tears in his eyes. “A baby,” he chokes out. His tear fall but his whole face is alight with joy.

Suddenly, Geralt’s throat is tight. He knows that Eskel never considered himself a father material because of all the issues he’s been battling since his childhood, just like Geralt and Lambert. Although he was quite a ladies man in his youth, he never allowed any relationship to get serious. Years passed like this, and Eskel’s now in his early forties, which is rather late to become a dad. Essi is six years younger than him, so it’s not early for parenthood for her either.

Yet, they both seem so happy now, and Geralt can’t get enough of seeing his brother like this, smiling and crying as he holds Essi and kisses her.

The rest of the table finally catches on that there’s something important happening. Then, the news is out, which brings their celebration to new heights. Jaskier is so happy and satisfied with himself that Geralt suspects his chest may soon burst from how much Jaskier puffs up with pride.

“See?” Jaskier tells Lambert, “I’m a better matchmaker than you!”

“I made a marriage happen!” Lambert replies.

“I made a baby happen! Beat that!”

Lambert scoffs, the picture of unimpressed. “Maybe you and Geralt are gonna have kids too.”

“We’ve already got two,” Geralt answers without thinking.

Jaskier lets out a shocked gasp, staring at him in disbelief, and Geralt slowly understands what he said.

It’s not that it’s not untrue – they do have two children under their care. The thing is that neither Ciri nor Dara is very likely to call Jaskier their dad. Technically speaking, Jaskier will soon become Ciri’s step-father, but Ciri sees him more as Geralt’s partner. In Dara’s eyes, Jaskier is a supportive, parental figure, but it'd be foolish to think that the boy could ever consider himself Jaskier’s child. Geralt knows that Jaskier realises how silly that wish is but he still seems to hope for it, deep, deep down.

“Geralt–” he says, tears welling up in his eyes.

For a stag do – even two of them at once – it’s too much crying involved.

***

“Shoes off, Geralt, honestly,” Jaskier complains, “Are you doing this on purpose every time?”

Geralt only grunts. His head is spinning, too much to be pleasant, and he doesn’t trust his mouth to form a dignified enough answer. Jaskier’s very drunk too, so he doesn’t comment on Geralt’s response, or lack thereof.

The two of them slowly make their way towards the bedroom. Jaskier’s house is rather large, though, and they’re many objects and corners they stumble into. The rucksack they’re causing makes them snicker but their amusement is cut short when walk by the living room – Ciri and Dara are there, sitting on the couch in front of the TV and observing the two of them with delight.

“What are you two doing up?” Jaskier slurs out, “It’s...” he looks at his hand, where a watch should be, but there isn’t. “It’s late.”

“We found an interesting show on TV,” Ciri replies innocently. Geralt doesn’t believe it for a minute.

“Well, sleep is important!” Jaskier exclaims, gesturing dramatically with the hand he doesn’t use to hold on to Geralt. “Go to bed!”

“Yes, Jaskier,” Dara answers.

“Young people like you should get a lot of sleep.”

“We know, Jaskier,” Ciri sighs.

Jaskier would go on about the significance of sleep for teenagers if he was allowed, so Geralt starts dragging him away. Before they disappear behind the corner, though, he turns back to Ciri and Dara, shooting them what he hopes is a withering look.

“Show’s over,” he growls out.

Ciri and Dara have the decency to look chastised.

Arriving in the bedroom successfully takes them a few more minutes. When they finally do, they go straight to the bed, not bothering to undress. Then, they’re kissing, messy and eager, but their bodies have a problem rising up to the challenge because of the copious amount of alcohol flowing through their veins. Jaskier breaks the kiss quickly anyway, saying that he’s about to be sick, and rushes to the bathroom.

After Geralt is left alone, he tries to process all the holy fucks of the day, primarily the reveal that Eskel is going to be a father and by extension, Geralt’s going to be an uncle. Then there’s the very fact that he marries Jaskier in two months. Geralt also has a memory of seeing Yennefer and Triss kissing during the party, and that is a lot to unpack as well.

The world is spinning as he lays in bed. He registers Jaskier returning and laying down beside him before he falls asleep.

It feels like no time passed at all when Geralt and Jaskier are waken up by noise. The loud thumping bores down into his skull, causing awful, throbbing pain. He sits up, groaning, and Jaskier does the same with a whimper.

Then, they hear Jaskier’s voice sing the first verses of Her Sweet Kiss and, suffice it to say, Geralt has had enough of that gods-damned fucking song and its techno remix especially.

“CIRILLA!” Geralt bellows.

“DARA!” Jaskier yells.

After a torturous minute, the music is turned off, but there’s no blessed silence. Instead, bright laughter reaches their ears. Geralt huffs, irritated, and checks the time on his phone. The fact that it’s one in the afternoon and that there’s a glass of water placed on his bedside table redeems Ciri and Dara slightly.

“Fucking hell,” Jaskier moans, messaging his temples, “I love my life.”

Strangely enough, there isn’t an ounce of sarcasm in Jaskier’s voice. Geralt turns to watch him closely, taking in his pale face, chapped lips and the grimace of pain twisting his features. “You do?” he asks.

Jaskier looks at him, the blue of his eyes as beautiful as always. “I do,” he answers softly, “My life is so much better with you in it.”

Warmth explodes in his chest and Geralt moves closer, kissing Jaskier on the mouth, the cheek, the nose, hoping to convey what he finds himself unable to say. Jaskier responds to the affection with a happy hum, angling his face so get more kisses. Geralt indulges him gladly, pecking him on his forehead, his brows, under his eyes, down his neck.

“So much better indeed,” Jaskier purrs.

Geralt chuckles. “That is thanks to Lambert.”

“Oh shut up.”

Jaskier’s grumble is so grumpy that Geralt can’t help but laugh. Jaskier carries on grouching about being better than Lambert, and it keeps making Geralt laugh.

He couldn’t be more glad that he’s stayed.

#myfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #modern au #The Sailor and the Singer AU

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scribblingfangirl · 4 years

Text

WANDERLUST | The Witcher - Jaskier

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: My second attempt! I’m still not able to find a good ending, but I think I’m getting there. English is not my first language, so I hope there aren’t to many mistakes.

word count: ~ 1.9k

prompt: //

warnings: //

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

You were standing behind the bar, chatting with yet another drunken guest, well, rather distracting him from the fact that you hadn’t, even after his fifth attempt, given him another ale, when the door to the tavern flew open.

The man you had been fretting about since he had left with the Witcher the prior day stood there, smiling at you with open arms. “Mind my words Posada! The next thing you’ll throw at me won’t be bread! It will be coin! I will enchant you with the tales of the White Wolf and how he defeated your devil!”

His sudden appearance and outburst startled a few of the guests that were spread out throughout the tavern and not drunk enough to be able to ignore him, resulting in a few spilt drinks and angry mutterations. You just sighed, while Jaskier, stupidly unaware of his surroundings, walked as if nothing had happened up to the bar and took a seat, scaring away the drunkard.

It would be a lie if you said that you weren’t glad to see him this way, alive and happy. Having heard the dark stories and tales about the Butcher of Blaviken, you couldn’t but be afraid for Jaskier’s life, or rather, his mouth, as he had the extraordinary ability to talk him into very stupid and dangerous situations. Yet, you knew what the grin and the mischievous glittering in his blue eyes meant. He had found his muse, his inspiration and would soon be leaving to begin a new adventure. It was just like the day he left his old life behind to pursue his new calling as a bard.

So, all you could do was chuckle at his usual exaggerated behaviour and started to wipe the counter. It was dark outside, well into the night and almost, if not already, closing time for the tavern, but you were waiting for Jaskier, knowing he’d return to you if he saw the lights still lit. Not that you would tell him that, or anybody else for that matter. You both might have been young, but his reputation was already well established and you didn’t want to be just another girl in his bed. You’d already lost your appreciation for yourself the moment you started to follow Jaskier around like a puppy and you didn’t want to sink any lower in your own regard.

“You heard that? I’m going to be Geralt of Rivia's barker!” Jaskier said while leaning across the counter and tapping his finger excitedly against it. For the other tavern guests, it might have seemed, as if he was afraid, that you wouldn’t be able to hear him. You knew, however, that this was just his way, unconsciously always searching for a little more closeness than before.

As did you. Even though you could have lost yourself in his blue eyes, you soon felt your own wandering down his face, following the lines of his neck, over his Adam’s apple and stopping at the visible line of chest hair. Thankfully, he had already leaned back and turned around, not seeing the way your eyes betrayed you, as he started waving happily at the Witcher, who had just appeared in the doorway.

You blushed in the meantime, cleared your throat, and hopefully head as well, not used to such a closeness to the bard. “The usual?” you asked to distract yourself and went to grab a clean glass behind you, hoping to give your face enough time to cool down.

“No,” you heard him say behind you. “Give us the best and strongest ale you have. After all, he defeated the devil of Posada!”

“Was it really the devil? With horns and all?” you asked, turning around and seeing that the Witcher had now approached you both and taken a seat besides Jaskier.

“Yes! And I’ve got a song to tell the tale! You’ve got to hear it! Oh!” he suddenly stopped, then smiled and stood up, bringing is lute to the front of his chest. “Actually, I have to perform right now it in front of this ungrateful lot. Let’s see how close I can bring them together now. This is…”

“... a story for another time,” the Witcher finished the sentence for him, his deep voice thick with annoyance and tiredness. He waved you off as you went to grab another cup, telling you to put the alcohol back. “This lady seems to be cleaning up and probably wants to close the bar. I’ll retreat to my chambers now.” After he stood up, he pushed Jaskier forcefully back into his seat, as he passed him to go to the stairs leading to the bedrooms.

“He’s either incredibly stupid or extremely brave, if he agrees to be accompanied by you, Jaskier,” you say as you look after him, completely missing the faint hint of jealousy that washes over the bards face.

“Hm,” you heard the Witcher grumble, as he stopped at the beginning of the stairs, having heard you thanks to his reinforced hearing abilities. “I never agreed to anything. You might even make a better travel companion.” Then he definitively stomped up the stairs, leaving Jaskier squirming, gesturing indignantly with his arms at the edge of your field of vision and squeaking helplessly.

“You’re already welcome!” the bard finally called after him, but you doubted that the Witcher heard it, reinforced hearing or not. Then he placed his lute carefully on the counter. “Isn’t she sexy? I got her from Filavandrel after one of his fellow elves broke my old one. That’s at least one reason to celebrate,” he added quickly, as he saw that you had started to clean up the bar for real and gestured to the last guests to pay up and leave. “Why does nobody ever care about Jaskier?”, he asked then, pouting and slouched against the bar, staring at the wall in front of him.

“I care about Jaskier, a lot, but some of us do have a job so that they’re able to go home with some coin.” Without a second thought, you pushed his hair out of his face, so that you could take a proper look at him, freezing for a short while the moment you touched his forehead and then retracting your hand and occupying it with any task you could think of.

Jaskier didn’t react immediately. He seemed frozen too, then moved his head and looked at you, still slouched against the counter, but a with a bright smile plastered on his face. You didn’t like that look. Suddenly he heaved himself up, clearing his throat and supported himself with his arms on the counter. “You could come with us! Be my muse! After all, Geralt did say that you might make a more favourable companion than I. You must give me the possibility to prove him wrong!”

The silence that followed his request gave him the answer he needed but didn’t want to hear. “You… You don’t want to?”, he inquired stunned.

“Jaskier.” You breathed out his name and weren’t even sure if it was loud enough for him to hear. Gladly you took the coin the last tavern guest handed you as a distraction. This was his wish and dream, not yours. You weren’t a traveller, didn’t want a big adventure, just a cosy home and someone who loved you to come home to. Things Jaskier would never be able to give you, you knew that and yet, your heart just couldn’t let go of him.

“Why?” His voice nearly broke saying just this one word and he stared at you, his eyes wide open as he grabbed your hands, that were scrubbing the same spot over and over for the past minutes.

You clenched your eyes shut and blew air out of your nose. “We both know why. I mean, come on! The university staff was right to look at me weirdly as I quit my job at the same time as you. I should’ve just stayed in Oxenfurt as a librarian. Look at what you’ve been doing while I stayed behind, watching over drunkards and sweeping tavern floors. What would I be even bringing to the table?”

His hands clenched tighter around yours. “I think we have to go now.”

That was an answer and reaction that you weren’t expecting. “What, where? Wait, Jaskier!” You almost didn’t have the time to finish up your work behind the bar, as he started to pull you towards the exit.

Opening the door for you, he let you get dressed quickly before he shoved you out into the cold air. “I have to show you something.”

This is when you realized that he let go of your hand and instead intertwined his fingers with yours. Blushing again, you tried to hide your face somehow from his view and act as nonchalantly as possible, even if it was almost pitch black at this time of the night, save for the occasional torch that was nearly burned down, and almost impossible for you to see his face, to begin with.

He stopped suddenly in front of the stable and turned you around to face him, looking serious. “I want to introduce you to someone. But do not tell Geralt about it! See… well, technically,” he started to babble nervously and his fingers fidgeted against yours. “You know what? Never mind!” He pushed the stable doors open. “Meet Roach!”

He had a plan, at least that much you had to give him. He knew how much you liked animals, especially horses, and wanted to convince you to join his travels by saying that you’d be able to watch over Roach and maybe even convince Geralt to let you ride her. Sadly, after walking around the stable for a few minutes, Jaskier had to admit, that he had no idea which horse it was, as he didn’t know what she looked like anymore.

You just punched him lightly in his shoulder and laughed, as you finally exited the stable. “All right, all right! You tried and you convinced me. I’m coming with you! Even if it’s only to help you out of tricky situations and keep track of your, apparently, rather leaky brain. But I won’t be playing matchmaker. If people are stupid enough to follow you into your room, that’ll be their fault.”

He turned around, after closing the doors behind you, looking bewildered. “Why would I need a matchmaker? As far as I’m concerned, there is a beautiful young barmaid right in front of me. My, as I’d like to call her, muse, whom I’ve been trying to impress since seeing her the first time in Oxenfurt, but, admittedly, failing miserably every time.”

This time your silence gave him the answer he needed and wanted. It would have been a lie if you’d said that you weren’t stupid enough to follow him to his room and that you were angry for throwing your own rules out of the window so fast. Being his muse for a little while and travelling with him and the soon to be White Wolf - and yes, deep within Geralt was thankful for the image change - was something you’d never come to regret. You were still young, after all, and had your whole life in front of you to find someone to come home to, and who knew? You’d helped Jaskier achieve his dreams, he might be able to help you achieve yours.

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier one shot #jaskier fanfiction #jaskier x y/n #jaskier x you #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #jaskier #jaskier the witcher #my writing #viascribbles

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

Text

All Is Found:Anastasia!AU

Part VIII – Glowing Dim As An Ember

Fandom: The Witcher Word Count: 3,945 Warning: Suicidal ideation referenced Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @jill-makes-art @mynamesoundslikesherlock @kemmastan @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @amirahiddleston @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @mycat-is-mylove @daydreamer-in-training a/n: A retelling of Don Bluth’s Anastasia (1997)

{prologue}{part i}{part ii}{part iii}{part iv}{part v}{part vi}{part vii}

Waves lapped calmly against the craggy rocks bordering the land. The inky depths glistened in the moonlight and the sound of a gull’s lonesome cry pierced the night air. No one was there to witness the strange beauty of the quiet but never still sea, save for one man. He rested one hand against a lichen covered boulder, the other gripping a staff with a crystal orb that gave off an eerie light. Cidaris was still as beautiful as he remembered and while he’d planned on seeing his plans through before it reached this point, he was a little bit grateful that he’d had to come. He should have known it would be like this in the end, handling his business directly as he should have done all those years before. Poison would have done the job swiftly and quietly but the damn Nilfgaardians had wanted to send a message. The only message worth sending, in Stregobor’s opinion, was a swift success. There had been nothing swift about this but he would see this through till the end. It brought a malicious smile to his lips to think of how you all must be spending your days, scurrying through portals, fearful of attack, unaware that you were walking into his web. You had used secret passageways to escape him and as he turned back through the rocks, retreating from his visit with the ocean towards the obscured door in the mountainside, he appreciated the irony that he would recapture you the same way. Stregobor was a patient man who had suffered too many fools who had all paid the price and soon you would join them.

-----

“Join me by the mirror,” Yennefer implored, gesturing for you to come closer. You were strangely more anxious about this than anything else that had occurred so far, including nearly being murdered. The dress had been delivered to your room at the inn by Geralt, though he made a point of clarifying that Jaskier had chosen the dress. You were pretty sure he was just adding that so if you didn’t like it you wouldn’t blame him, but it made your heart happier than you’d like to admit that despite how distant he’d become Jaskier had still chosen the dress for you. When you pulled it out of the box your eyes had widened, with fear or awe or some combination of both.

It was perfect.

You’d feared it would be something fluffy or ornate in a way that you’d never be comfortable in but this was so elegant yet so simple. It was strapless, dark blue velvet that fell in a way that flowed with your form but didn’t hug it tightly. Its tailoring was just confined enough to complement your body but not put it on display, something you were endlessly grateful for. The only real decoration to the otherwise plain gown were two flowing pieces that shimmered and trailed you (though didn’t trip you up), giving you the effect of wearing a cape without the encumbrance of one. The only jewelry you wore was the chain and pendant that you never went without and a pair of simple gold earrings Yennefer gave you that went well with the chain. You had assumed due to the shortness of your hair that not much could be done with it but Yennefer had braided the sides framing your face, meeting in the back it was half up and the simple addition of the braids made you stand a little straighter and feel a little fancier. As you looked at yourself in the mirror next to Yennefer you considered the person looking back at you. She didn’t look as afraid as you felt. She didn’t look like a nobody who had grown up without any idea of who she was. She didn’t look like you, but she looked like someone you maybe could be someday.

“A word of advice,” Yennefer said, pulling your gaze to hers in the mirror, “Do not be fooled by this image. It is tempting to see oneself transformed into another, more aesthetically enjoyable form and believe that this is who you should be or that your life will be easier if you become her. But I speak from experience when I tell you that this…”

She gestured to you in the mirror and you looked back at yourself again.

“This is not some new version of you. This is not some carrot to chase. This is just a part of what you can be. Don’t let yourself be limited trying to always be her.”

“But this is who she wants,” you argued, “This is who I would have been if we hadn’t been separated.”

“But you were,” Yennefer said simply, “And you’re not. You have not survived everything that occurred to be swallowed by the ghost of what could have been. What is will always be more important than what could have been. And don’t speak for your grandmother so quickly. Do you know what she wants, what she has always wanted more than anything in this world for the last 10 years?”

You shook your head no and Yennefer took one of your hands in hers, looking into your eyes intently.

“She’s wanted you to be alive.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough,” you said, “Existing has never been enough. There must be something I have to do, some service I have to perform, some person she needs me to be.”

“No,” Yennefer said with a soft smile, “Just be alive. And be patient. She may not gather you into her arms or provide the touching reunion you’ve always dreamt of.”

“All I ever wanted was to have family,” you replied.

“Well, there you have it. You are already enough for each other.”

A gentle knock at the door broke the tender moment.

“We’ve procured a carriage,” the low baritone of Geralt’s voice announce, “It will be coming for you shortly. Jaskier and I are going to ride ahead to check for threats.”

Anxiety flooded you again and Yennefer gave you an encouraging smile.

“Alright Princess,” she said, correcting your posture and tilting up your chin, “It’s time for your debut.”

-----

“I know what you’re thinking, Geralt,” Jaskier said to the witcher who had been waiting in silence by his side. The witcher’s amber eyes gave the bard a sideways glance but he didn’t respond.

“I know that you’re worried I’m getting too soft or that I’m going to make some declaration and ruin our plans but I’m a professional, Geralt. We part tonight. I know that. And I’m fine with it.”

Geralt’s silence was damning.

Before Jaskier could continue his protests the carriage pulled up and despite himself he perked up, excited to see her. He plastered an impassive expression on his face as you and Yennefer left the carriage, though he admired the way the cloak he’d ordered to keep you warm on the ride looked on you.

“You clean up nicely,” you remarked, gesturing to the midnight blue attire Jaskier wore. You wondered idly if he realized how well your outfits complemented each other.

“Are you ready?” he asked, not acknowledging the compliment or offering one of his own. Your face fell a little but your nerves as you looked to the brightly lit manor house with music pouring from its doors and all manner of gentry milling around quickly distracted you from the slight.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said, trying to summon a smile. Jaskier’s cold expression faltered and he reached out, gently brushing his hand against yours to pull your attention away from the glittering throng.

“This is it, Y/N,” he said softly, “This is everything you’ve ever wanted.”

You nodded and swallowed hard, squeezing his hand tightly with resolve. He extracted his fingers and offered you his arm instead which you gratefully took, and the four of you entered the house.

-----

Marie Thyssen had lived to an age that would have astounded her ancestors.

She thought of this often, usually with guilt when she resented waking up to another day. She had been raised to do one thing; marry well and secure a lineage. When the time came to defend her country she was incapable of doing it and tried instead to focus on protecting the line in another way, getting her grandchild out of the country. And she had come so close. So close that she could still feel the brush of your dress against her fingertips as you fell away, the pull of the arms that held her back. As if there was any future for her without Toussaint. As if she wanted to keep going without you. But as it was with most things, she didn’t get to choose where or how her life went. So she went to Cidaris and she kept searching from afar. It had been 10 years and she had fired at least 20 advisors, all of them trying to get her to move on and focus on the future. One especially bold one had advised she remarry and join a new house for protection. She’d taken special pleasure in firing that one. The only one who had been different was Yennefer and perhaps it was because she had her own seemingly impossible dreams to chase. And maybe it was her support and acceptance of this dream that made it so Marie could finally, reluctantly, put it down. It was hardly the first kingdom to fall and if your death had happened at least it was swift and not by the hands of that traitor. She told herself these things as if they made it any better.

She sat at her place of honor in the banquet hall and looked out at the rows of people and it did ease her pain a bit. She loved to see the young people, lives ahead of them, happy and smiling. Sometimes she wondered what you’d look like now and whether you would have enjoyed dancing still or gone a bit wild as she had at one time, preferring to ride horses over dancing minuets. She hoped Yennefer would return soon, having gone on some errand she wouldn’t tell her about and Marie hadn’t pried. The mage had her ways and so far they had served her well enough. As if summoned by her thoughts she spied the familiar long, dark tresses and striking violet eyes of her advisor enter the room. A man walked a bit behind her – no, not a man, a witcher. How intriguing, Marie thought. Another man – definitely a man – entered next and then…

Marie’s hands clutched the sides of her chair. There was no doubt in her mind that it could have been anyone else. There was too much that was too right from the highlights in your hair that were brought out by the candlelight to the expression on your face to the Thyssen nose. All of the little pieces that came together to form you were there and Marie felt her heart ache. She rose quickly, offering a polite nod to her cousin who was throwing the party and who had taken her in after the attack, and began to move wordlessly away from the hall. It was cruel enough that you visited her in your dreams, being visited by the ghost of who you could have been was unbearable and this, at the very least, Marie would refuse to endure.

-----

“Do you see her?” you asked anxiously. Yennefer’s brow furrowed slightly as she looked to the dais where your grandmother usually sat.

“No,” she admitted, “That’s odd. But perhaps fortunate. It would be better to have this reunion somewhere less public. I will find her.”

Without another word Yennefer wove through the crowd. Geralt silently made his way from the crowd as well, doing another check around the perimeter, something itching at his senses that made him feel uneasy though he’d been thorough in his check before. You watched them both go and then you stood alone except for Jaskier by your side.

“Here,” he said, “Let me take your cloak.”

You let him pull it away and he handed it to the footman to store. When he looked back, he froze, azure eyes widening slightly as they traveled from the hem of your skirt to your hair. His eyes traced every single inch of you in a way that wasn’t lecherous but still made you feel vulnerable and exposed. When his eyes finally fell to yours and stayed on them you could scarcely breathe.

“What?” you asked finally, the question bitten out more harshly than you intended in your anxiety.

“You look…” his words trailed away and he began the perusal again.

“You bought the dress you knew what it looked like,” you said, flushing red and looking askance.

“I knew what the dress looked like but I could never have guessed how it would look on you. It looks…”

“What?” you asked, “Regal? Magnanimous?” Like a costume, you added silently. He shook his head.

“It suits you,” he said, “You look like yourself. Do you like it?”

You nodded and he smiled so brightly you wondered why the torches even bothered to burn, so suddenly outshone by his face.

“Do you think they’ll be long?” you asked, looking around you again. He took your hand and gently pulled you back to face him.

“Let’s dance,” he suggested.

“Why?” you asked, fearful this was yet another test, that perhaps somewhere Yennefer and your grandmother waited to watch and assess you.

“Because it will help you relax,” he replied, “And because I want to be on the arm of the most beautiful woman in the room.”

You rolled your eyes but let him guide you onto the floor, one arm pulling you in by the waist and guiding yours to go to his shoulder. You remembered your dance lessons fondly and as you found the rhythm of the music you did begin to relax, humming the tune quietly as you spun. Jaskier’s eyes stayed fixed on you, heedless of his surroundings or even for a moment what this night meant for the two of you. He just focused on your smile and the way the candlelight played off your hair and the sound of your voice, breaking through the loud instruments in a soft hum that was lovelier than any song Jaskier could have written himself. It was only when Geralt and Yennefer wove into view, agitated and visibly distraught, that Jaskier was pulled back to the reality of the moment. There was a job to be done and by gods he was going to make sure it went well. You gave him a questioning look when he stopped dancing.

“I’ll be right back, stay here or actually even better go get some wine!” he suggested, pointing your body to face a banquet table. You turned back around to protest but he was already halfway across the floor.

-----

“Alright I know that face, what’s happened?” Jaskier asked once he was within earshot of Geralt and Yennefer. Geralt looked pointedly at Yennefer who sighed and gave Jaskier a look that was nearly empathetic.

“She’s refusing to meet with her,” Yennefer said. Jaskier blinked a couple of times and then shrugged.

“So?” he asked. Yennefer and Geralt exchanged a quick look.

“So she’s done, Jaskier. She will not meet with her. She says she is tired of being met with lies and conmen,” Yennefer replied. Yennefer had tried to keep her from the people who claimed to have found her granddaughter but by the time she got to her it had already happened countless times. Those who had plans to do the same quickly stopped after Yennefer made a public display of what she would do to any who tried again. But the damage had been done and though she’d known it was a possibility, Yennefer had desperately wished the woman would listen to her. For once she was absolutely resolute.

“Well I don’t care if she’s done,” Jaskier said, hands going to his hips in irritation, “We have her granddaughter and she will see her.”

He looked to Geralt for support but the witcher looked awkwardly askance. Jaskier’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest further but then thought better of it.

“Listen,” he said to Yennefer, “She’s here. You cannot be suggesting that we let her be turned away, if not for Y/N’s sake for your ladyship’s! Can you imagine her regret if she discovered her folly?”

“Then she won’t discover it,” Yennefer said fiercely. Jaskier’s eyes narrowed and then before anymore could be said he cast Geralt a withering, accusatory glance and hurried off down the hall.

“What is he doing?” Yennefer asked, moving to follow him. Geralt stayed her with his hand.

“Whatever it takes,” he answered, a blend of pride and concern in his amber eyes.

Geralt turned his attention back to the floor to find you.

“Fuck.”

-----

“Not now,” the woman called in answer to the knock at her door. It was either her cousin or Yennefer and she had no more words for either of them. The door opened and when Marie turned, already shocked at the audacity, her surprise was doubled at the sight of a man.

“Your ladyship, I know this is surprising-”

“What the hell are you doing? Get out. Now,” she demanded.

“My name is Jask- Julian. Julian Alfred Pankratz,” he said. The last name sounded familiar and it bought him some time as he’d hoped it would. “I’m here to talk with you abou-”

“Pankratz. Of the Lettenhove Pankratzes?” she asked. He nodded though it felt like a charade to accept that mantle.

“I know that you have been through a terrible ordeal-”

“You were there,” she said, cutting him off once more. He felt pinned to the spot by her gaze and the memories that came unwillingly to mind, “You were at the banquet.”

He nodded once more and waited for her to continue as a flicker of recognition crossed over her face.

“You were the boy who helped us escape,” she said.

“I am,” he replied, taking a step closer, trying to move past the memories of that night, the all-consuming fear and the heat of the flames that licked at his feet as Geralt pulled him away.

“Are you here to kill me?” she asked, something distressingly like hope in her eyes. But defiance as well. You were certainly your grandmother’s granddaughter.

“Gods no, why would you think that?” he cried.

“Force of habit I suppose. You nearly get murdered a few times and someone comes around from your past and, well,” she shrugged casually.

“Well now that we’ve established that I’m not here to murder you may we talk about what I am here about?” he asked.

“Might as well,” she said.

“I’m here about your granddaughter.”

He could see the walls go up the moment he said it and he cursed himself. He’d had a plan, a whole speech that eased into things but everything was falling apart.

“You need to leave,” she said, her voice frosty, another thing that reminded him of you.

“I’ve brought her to you. Yennefer herself met with her to verify it,” he replied.

“I will not hear this again,” the woman said, rising and moving to look out the window, “Leave.”

“Her name is Y/N, she was taken into the Belhaven Home 10 years ago with no memory-”

“I said get out,” she cried, turning to face him once more. He wasn’t sure what moved him more, the tears in her eyes of the terror in them. This was torture for her and he understood now why Yennefer had relented. But he was not Yennefer and he would not back down. Not when your happiness was on the line. Not when he finally had the chance to make something right.

“You’re in pain,” he said softly, pale blue eyes tender, “I do not wish to inflict more harm. I only ask that you see her. Talk with her. She is just as afraid, just as hurt.”

“And why have you brought her here?” Marie asked, voice growing stony again, the walls rebuilding.

“To meet with you.”

“Why? I’ve heard of people who have been able to be escorted out of the country but it is at a high cost. How would you have paid it? And what would have motivated you so strongly? And don’t give me some horseshit about it being the right thing, we both know the right thing bears no weight in this world.”

Jaskier took a deep breath, cursing inwardly and offering a silent apology to Geralt.

“I was doing it for the reward,” he replied, “In truth I didn’t believe she was the princess. Not at first. For what it’s worth, Geralt did. And I have come to believe it as well since then.”

“Then she is an even better actress than you expected, brava,” she replied disdainfully.

“That’s just the thing, she’s really not,” Jaskier said with a short laugh, “She’s incapable of being anyone but herself. It’s one of the better qualities she possesses. She is also stubborn, haughty, and fiercely determined.”

“What convinced you?” she asked despite herself, curious against her better judgment.

“She remembered me,” he replied, “Well, not me. A boy. She remembered the escape. That is something no one else knows but myself, Geralt, you, and her. And Stregobor.”

She winced at the name and took a deep breath. A familiar sensation began to stir in her and try as she might to repress it, it still wriggled through. Hope would be the death of her. If she was lucky. When Marie opened her eyes again there was a calm, resolute look in them and Jaskier waited breathlessly.

“Bring her in,” she said.

“You will not regret this,” Jaskier said before running out of the room, throwing the door closed behind him harder than intended with sent an echoing bang through the corridor. There was a broad smile on his face that stilled at the sudden sight of you standing where the door had been thrown open.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed. Your hands were balled into fists at your side and there were angry tears in your eyes. You swallowed hard and a little humorless laugh escape your mouth, a harsh and bitter sound.

“It was all a lie,” you said. It wasn’t a question, just a sad realization.

“At first,” he admitted, “But Y/N if you were listening to that you must have heard the rest.”

“Aren’t you tired, Jaskier? Aren’t you tired of pretending?” you asked.

“What?” N-”

“My whole life I’ve been looking for my family. The people who could care for me and be honest with me and believe in me and I came to realize that I’d found one. You and Geralt took me from the ruins of that palace, you gave me an identity, you kept me safe, you did everything I wanted a family to do. But it was all a lie. It was all based on a callous, stupid lie. I am so stupid,” a tear fell down your face at the words and Jaskier’s heart wrenched, panic gripping him as you turned away.

“Y/N please,” he begged, reaching for your arm. You reached to your leg and the dagger flashed brightly in the torchlight as you held it up to his throat.

“Get. Your fucking hands. Off of me,” you growled. He stepped back, reluctantly releasing your arm, and watched helplessly as you ran out of his life.

#All Is Found series #Anastasia!AU #The Witcher!AU #Jaskier x Reader #retelling #fanfiction

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

You Set My Heart Ablaze (Pt. 23/25)

Warnings: Mentions of sexual harrassment in this chapter.

_________________

Tissaia sighed and straightened the cuffs of her shirt whilst she waited for the teachers and children to fill the school hall. It was finally the last week of term and she had news for the school. It was good news, or at least she thought so. She hoped the rest of the faculty would agree. Philippa Eilhart had emailed her this morning to confirm the results of the investigation into Stregobor and his supporters. It was now up to her to inform the rest of the school. She had hoped that Philippa would be the one to share the news but Tissaia had been left deliver it by herself, although perhaps that wasn’t a such a bad thing after all. Philippa could be quite controlling and Tissaia liked things to be done her own way. She was still bitter about the way Philippa had handled the allegations against Jaskier and Triss.

It had taken too much of Tissaia’s time to convince Philippa that a light slap on the wrist and stern words would be enough, especially with the news that Mr Marx and Mr Degerlund would be allowed to return to the school in the Autumn term. Philippa in particular had wanted Jaskier to be added to the list of suspended teachers. She’d been more lenient towards Triss but Tissaia had had compiled a folder of all the good Jaskier had done for the school and his fights for equality, especially for the LGBT community. Luckily that was a soft spot for Philippa and she’d been talked down.

She closed her eyes as the air filled with the hustle and bustle of assembly. It was always too loud until she started to speak but she never felt right to demand silence until it was time to begin. Eventually the last class filtered in, Jaskier’s class. The teacher gave her a sheepish smile and found his seat at the old school piano.

“Good morning!” She called loudly to gather everyone’s attention. The students drawled back her greeting slowly and then settled down, silence finally falling over the room. “Today is the last assembly of the school year, which I’m sure you are all pleased about.”

There was an excited murmur of agreement from both staff and students.

“Now I know you’re all excited about the holidays but I expect everyone to try their best for the last couple of days. I’m sure if you’re lucky your teachers will have some fun classes lined up, but there’s still no excuse to misbehave.” She reminded everyone sharply. “Before we get to the singing. I have a couple of announcements that I would like to say first.” She glanced at Jaskier who furrowed his brow but nodded.

“Firstly, I know there has been speculation regarding Mr Ban-Ard’s departure earlier in the school year.”

Another round of chatter from the school hall.

“I can confirm that Mr Ban-Ard will not be joining us again in September. I’m sure you will all wish him the best for the future but unfortunately, the headmaster will not be back to say his own goodbyes.”

Tissaia didn’t wish Stregobor the best for the future but it was better for the children to be shielded from the truth of the matter. Some of the older students would guess but the younger ones could live in ignorant bliss. She took a moment to survey the hall. The teachers seemed relieved by the news and the older year groups were chattering excitably as they swapped theories and ideas. Tissaia smiled at her students.

“I have been asked to take his place as permanent headmistress.” She laughed. “However, as honoured as I am to have been offered the role, I miss being able to take more time teaching my students. So I will be back to my usual role by September. I am sure you will give a very warm welcome to whoever replaces me.

Secondly, Mr Marx and Mr Degerlund, as I am sure you all know have also been absent since March, will be returning in September. I’d like to thank Mr Fidháil and Mr Ermion for their dedication and hard work these last few months. It’s been wonderful to have you on the staff.”

The two teachers smiled serenely and nodded back at her. She would be sad to see them go. Mousesack in particular had become a good friend to her in the short time they’d known each other. She hadn’t warmed up to Filavandral quite as much but she knew that Francesca would miss him, they’d been thick as thieves the entire time he’d been at the school.

“And now, Mr Pankratz, if you will?” She smiled at the year two teacher who’d been brushing dust off the keys at either end of the piano.

He grinned. “I thought you’d never ask, Ms de Vries.”

He placed fingers on keys and all the students scrambled to find the right page in the scruffy song books that were shared between two or three people.

Soon enough assembly drew to a close, Jaskier playing everyone out with a jazzy version of one the choral pieces they’d sang. The last assembly of the year was finished and hopefully the last one Tissaia would have to lead for a long time. Maybe when she was older she would revisit the idea of promotion but for now she was happy with her art class.

The keys of the piano thunked as the last student left the hall and Jaskier scurried over to her.

“Ms de Vries!” He called, pulling his music satchel over his shoulder, the sheets of paper stuffed haphazardly into their slots.

Tissaia crossed her hands in front of her and waited for the young teacher to catch up. “Mr Pankratz?”

He tugged at the strap of his satchel and tossed his fringe from his eyes. “Hi, yes. Umm. Quick question?”

Tissaia rolled her eyes. “Spit it out, Jaskier.”

He smiled nervously and shuffled awkwardly on the balls of his feet. “Yes, good. You see I never actually got an answer to my question a few weeks ago? And with summer coming up…”

He trailed off and chewed at his lower lip. Tissaia sighed. He seemed so much younger than her, when did she begin to feel so old?

“Triss said you’d moved on, Jaskier.” She frowned at the bundle of anxious energy in front of her.

Jaskier laughed brightly, too brightly. Tissaia narrowed her eyes at the younger teacher. He had been happier recently, in fact after a rather sullen March and April, he’d almost completely turned around at the beginning of May. She’s assumed Triss’s explanation of him moving on had been correct but now she wasn’t too sure. He was too invested in summer, in being able to resume his friendship with Geralt and his colleagues. It wasn’t just because he wanted to hang out with Triss and Eskel, or Yen and Istredd.

It was Geralt.

It had always been Geralt.

“Of course I’ve moved on!” Jaskier insisted, speaking so quickly it was a miracle that he wasn’t tripping up over his words.. “It was just a crush, and Melitele knows how fast I get through crushes.”

“Philippa would say that nothing changes during the summer.” Tissaia noted, watching the light fall from Jaskier’s eyes. “But I would suggest that there is no reason not to be friends with your friend’s friend.”

Jaskier beamed brighter than the sun. “Oh that is excellent news!”

“And…” She continued with a smirk. “If you were to get to know the aforementioned friend over summer and sparks were to fly, then that is hardly any concern of the school.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to say something but Tissaia cut him off.

“Hypothetically speaking of course.”

He nodded. “Oh, of course. Right. Yes. Hypothetical, and hypothetically speaking I would be forever grateful for your support, Tissaia.”

She laughed. “Now get a move on. Those year twos won’t teach themselves. Are they ready for the end of year concert tonight?”

Jaskier nodded and preened like a peacock. “Naturally, they do have the best musician as their form tutor.”

“Run along, Mr Pankratz.” Tissaia said firmly.

He nodded again and pulled his satchel back up his shoulder before hurrying out of the school hall.

She sighed and shook her head as she watched him go with a smile. He was a chaotic mess at times but she really rather fond of him. He did brighten up the whole school with his charm and his music and his infectious enthusiasm.

It seemed even her stone cold heart wasn’t entirely immune to the charms of Jaskier Pankratz.

______________

The end of term concert was probably one of Tissaia’s least favourite events of the year. The kids were enthusiastic of course but most of them sorely lacked any musical talent. Her poor ear drums suffered every year. The school’s main music teacher, Ms Metz, would be leading the entire school in a short set of songs and then each year group would perform their own act. Some of the year groups performed poetry readings, some short skits, and some preferred music. It mostly depended on the teachers in charge of the year group. The year twos for example had performed a short song with actions whilst Jaskier played guitar every year since he’d joined the school.

The children were all chattering loudly in the dining hall where they were gathered. The parents, those who wanted to join the festivities, were crammed into the school hall, waiting for the show to start. The rowdiness was giving her a headache, as it always did, but unfortunately this year she could not hide out in her classroom until it was time for her year group.

Yet another reason to not become the headmistress of Dol Blathanna School.

She clapped her hands. “Settle down!” She called over the noise.

The chattering continued. She sighed and cleared her throat.

“QUIET!” She yelled with as much dignity as she could manage.

The school hall fell silent, finally.

“Now, I know the older students have probably heard this a half a dozen times before, but please listen carefully.” She let her words settle over the hundreds of pairs of eager eyes watching her. “It may not feel like it now, but I promise you that the noise from this room does carry to the main hall so please try and keep it down whilst the other year groups are performing. You’ve all worked incredibly hard on your acts so I expect you to respect each other and be quiet when it is not your turn to perform. You did well in rehearsals and I know you can do even better tonight for your parents and guardians.”

There was an excitable murmur from her audience and she gave them what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Year ones, twos and threes, you will be going home after all three year groups have performed at the first short interval. Please do not leave the premises without your form tutors knowing. This is for your own safety. Year fours, I know this will be the first time your year group has stayed for the whole evening. It will seem long but please remember to stay quiet and respect the other acts.”

There was a slight groan from the year fours. It was always hardest on that year group. They were used to a much shorter evening and they were normally overtired by the end of the night.

“Listen to your teachers and be kind to each other, but, most importantly.” She smiled widely at the students. “Enjoy yourselves. This should be a fun evening and a chance to show off to your parents and guardians. Now on with the show!”

She turned away from the students and let the smile fall from her face with a tired sigh. To the gods she couldn’t wait until the school had a full-time head teacher again.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned round to see Triss beaming at her.

“You did well, Tissaia.” Triss said softly.

“Thank you, Triss.” Tissaia answered in a low whisper so the children wouldn’t hear. “I can’t say I’ll be sorry to let all of this go.”

Triss shrugged. “It suits you. I understand why you didn’t take the promotion but the role suits you.”

Tissaia sighed. “Maybe in a few years time I’ll reconsider. Philippa was disappointed when I didn’t take it.”

Triss laughed and Tissaia couldn’t help but smile. Triss had always had an infectious laugh. It wasn’t necessarily the most traditionally beautiful of laughs, she had a tendency to snort, but it was so joyful that it always made those around her smile and join in with the laughter.

“Thank you.” She repeated and gripped her friends arm. She wasn’t much of a hugger but she knew that Triss would understand.

“Anytime, Tissaia.”

Tissaia tugged at her sleeves and brushed down her skirt. It was show time.

__________________

Tissaia’s ears were ringing from all the singing. The year threes had just finished their performance and now it was time for the younger groups to meet up with their adults and go home. This would allow more space for some of the parents from the older year groups to filter into the hall as the younger ones left. It probably wasn’t the most efficient way of running their end of year concert but it was tradition. She had considered changing it this year, taking the whole day off classes, instead of just the afternoon. Typically they had a whole school rehearsal in the afternoon but could have been swapped to the morning and the concert could have taken place in the afternoon instead of after school.

It was too late now.

And she wasn’t one to mess with school tradition.

The younger children were now squealing excitably as they tried to find their adults. She caught Filavandrel’s eyes from across the room. He looked as exhausted as she felt. She often wondered why the man had become a primary school teacher. He didn’t particularly seem to enjoy the company of younger children, much like Yennefer, but he had been a life saver this term whilst Mr Marx was away so she didn’t like to question it too much.

She glanced around to where Jaskier was flailing his arms about and chattering excitably with his class. She shook her head fondly. He was almost the opposite of Filavandrel. The young teacher was too much like his children at times. She drifted closer so she could listen in to his conversation with his class. She was impressed by the confidence with which he now signed for Dara. At the beginning of the term he could barely sign and talk at the same time, he had a habit of sticking his tongue out whilst he concentrated and his words often trailed off as he focused on his hands.

Now he signed almost without thinking. She’d caught him doing it in the staffroom a couple of times before he realised and had to sit on his hands.

“Honestly, I know I say this every year, but I think you guys are my best class yet!” He grinned, his eyes were almost twinkling with excitement. Jaskier was probably on an adrenaline high just like his kids. “I am so proud of every single one of you. You were brilliant out there! Yes Marilka, even you. Stop looking so grumpy. I promised no one even noticed you trip… except me of course.”

Tissaia smirked as he fumbled over his mistake.

“You know what. I’m going to bring you all cake tomorrow! Just don’t tell your parents.” He winked and the whole class giggled. “Now, I remember there were no nuts for you Kayleigh, Iskra you can’t have gluten right?”

One of the dark haired girls nodded with a wide smile.

“Any other allergies? No? Well I’ll check with Ms Merigold just to make sure.” He licked his lips and tossed his fringe from his eyes. “Now! Who can see their adults?”

The kids all yelled loudly. Jaskier winced and covered his ears. “Inside voices!” He laughed with a wide wave of his arms.

Tissaia noticed Geralt and Yennefer approach before Jaskier did and she shuffled slightly closer, not wanting to miss this particular interaction.

“DAD!” Ciri screamed.

“Ah, Geralt!” Jaskier blushed, but Tissaia supposed that could have been blamed on the heat of the room.

“Mr Pankratz.” Geralt smirked as he wrapped his arms around Ciri’s shoulders. The young girl had launched herself at her father like an arrow leaving a bowstring.

“Buttercup.” Yennefer raised an eyebrow at him but Tissaia could see the smile her young friend was hiding.

“Mum!” Ciri extracted herself from her father’s arms and clung to Yennefer instead.

“Hello, Princess.” Yennefer cooed. “Did Geralt do this?” She pulled at the intricate braid that fell down Ciri’s back.

“Yup!” Ciri grinned. “We practiced with Roach at the weekend but Dad said I couldn’t have flowers tonight.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier chided with an affectionate smile. “No flowers? Shame on you.”

Geralt glowered at Ciri’s teacher but Tissaia smirked at the matching blushes the pair of them now shared.

“Maybe next time.” Geralt grumbled.

“Mr Pankratz?” Another parent interrupted the discussion so Geralt and Yennefer guided Ciri towards the exit.

Tissaia didn’t miss the way Jaskier’s eyes lingered on Geralt even whilst talking to Mistle’s mother, and Geralt looked back at Jaskier more than once. Tissaia saw Yennefer roll her eyes and say something in Geralt’s ear before pulling away from Ciri and gracefully gliding across the room towards Istredd.

Tissaia tilted her head as she watched her two oldest friends talk. They were standing closer than she would have expected, more than once Istredd’s finger brushed against Yennefer’s wrists.

She scoffed. Yennefer had kept that quiet. She would have to ask her about it when they next all went to dinner or the pub. She’d heard from Jaskier’s outburst in her office that the pair were seeing each other again but that was three weeks ago and Tissaia had, perhaps wrongfully, assumed they would have split up by now. Yennefer had an unfortunate habit of pushing those who cared for her away. When things got too serious she would lash out to protect her own heart, and especially given her long history with Istredd, Tissaia was surprised to see that things appeared to be working out alright.

After about ten minutes or so most of the younger children had either left or joined their parents to watch older siblings so it was time to start again.

She sighed as she stepped back up onto the stage.

Would this evening ever end?

_____

#the witcher #geraskier #tissaia de vries #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #Yennefer of Vengerberg #modern au #yennefer/istredd #wolfie's witcher writing

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