Jaskier and Geralt are Caught Between a Rock and a Hard Place (Emotions, It’s Their Emotions)
“Show your face your cowardly whoreson! You, you, you wastrel of a minstrel!” Jaskier clung into his lute as he ducked behind a vendor’s cart. Vespula loudly calling out new and creative insults as she searched for your bard. Honestly if she turned her hatred into song, she’d probably be doing very well for herself. But that was besides the point. The man waited, watching his past love look around quickly before storming off. He let out a sigh of relief when he slid down. Thank the gods-
“Mind if I join you?”
“Eeepp!” Jaskier let out a distinctly unmanly yelp as someone joined his hiding spot. The figure squatting down next to him. “…Geralt? What are-?”
“Shhhh.” The witcher out his hand over Jaskier’s mouth as the voice of an ass called out.
“Geralt? Where’d you go?” Jaskier and Geralt peeked over the cart to see Valdo looking around the town square in front of the university. The witcher pulling the bard down with him quickly as the man looked around. Eventually leaving and Geralt let out a breath of relief.
“What was that about?” Jaskier asked as he stood up, helping Geralt do the same. “You’re supposed to stay off your foot.”
“I know. But then he started singing to me. Calling me a white haired beauty…amongst other things.” Jaskier snickered.
“Oh poor you, actually being complimented must be so hard. Surprised you didn’t punch him.”
“I did. Kept on going on and on, he’s almost as bad as you are.”
“Don’t you dare compare us, or I will drop you.” Jaskier threatened the witcher he was supporting as they walked away. Geralt glancing back curious.
“Inn’s the other way.”
“I know, there’s some place I want to show you first. It’s not far.”
“My leg hurts.” Geralt said causing Jaskier to stop. Pausing before he grabbed the witcher, hefting him over his shoulder. Everyone in the busy square watching as Jaskier began to carry the flustered Geralt. “What in the Gods names are you doing?!”
“Carrying you! I’m a lot stronger than I look you know.” Jaskier laughed.
“I…fine…” Geralt didn’t protest as the bard walked down the road. Jaskier humming a certain song the man didn’t care for. It was slightly embarrassing but if he had to choose between the two bards? He’d take Jaskier in a heart beat.
“It smells like shit.”
“Yes, the lovely Pontar is known for its many sights and smells. Namely drowners and fish.” The sand bank along the river was abandoned as they came to a stop under the stone bridge. “Used to hide here when I was supposed to be taking arithmetic lessons.” He grunted as the bard set down his injured witcher. Joining him on the sand. “Seemed so certain they could beat the math into me. Well look at where I am now.”
“Regretting you didn’t pay more attention during those lessons?” Jaskier elbowed Geralt.
“Hey, I’m not that bad. Besides you’re not one to judge. You learned math what? A hundred years ago?” Jaskier was out of breath. Geralt was impressed the bard managed to carry him that far.
“Mmmm, not that long. Say about seventy five at most.”
“You’re such an old man Geralt, it’s not even funny. Next thing you know, you’ll need a cane to walk. I’ll have the local woodcarver make you one.”
“Try it and I’ll shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.” Geralt was only half joking but Jaskier laughed regardless. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The witcher asked abruptly, leaning towards Jaskier.
“What? That my family is filthy rich?”
“That you’re a viscount.” Geralt watched his bard’s face turn into a frown. “Were you disowned?” Jaskier snorted.
“I wish. Sadly last time I saw my father he was intent on trying to prime me for inheriting his estate.”
“Why’d you leave? You could have anything you want. A place to stay, food every night, no bed bugs…” The witcher itched his neck at the thought. Memories of the disgusting beds they’d slept in coming to mind. “But you left, just to be some bard.”
“I’m not just some bard Geralt. I’m your bard.” Jaskier sighed loudly. “I’ve seen so many things, meet so many people, performed feats some people can only sing about. That’s what I wanted. I would’ve never have met you if I just stayed and became the second Viscount Di Lettonhove. Named Julian. Julian, Geralt. My parents…my mother insisted she loved me but to give a child that name is not fair in the slightest.”
“Did I ever tell you what I wanted my name to be?” Geralt snickered and Jaskier peeked up.
“On the path, we’re encouraged to take a last name. Make things easier. I wanted to be Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde.” Jaskier laughed.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I was barely twenty-”
“That is the most pretentious name I’ve heard in my life.”
“That’s exactly what Vesemir said.”
“The man who raised me at Kaer Morhen. He gave me a good slap for it.”
“I probably would’ve too.” The thought of a young Geralt trying to go by that name was almost as inconceivable as it was hilarious. A pleasant quiet taking over as they stared at the river, sun beginning to set. Jaskier watching as the rays caught Geralt’s white hair. He looked stunning. The bard’s voice catching in his throat as he began to move in. Geralt however spoke first, pulling away.
“It’s getting late, we should head back now.”