Event: Belleteyn 2025 Prompt: green noise 🌿

"The Foxglove Lullaby" [ao3 link]

Dew drops drip gently onto my skin,

Green blades shuffle beneath my feet,

A grasshopper chirps softly, so discreet,

Only him and me, me and him.

Far in the gloom the hollows weep,

And they’ll soon arise and seek,

Across yonder in the greenwoods deep,

So will he, awaken will he.

The moon in full swing whispers its plea,

Tells me to hurry, to hide and flee,

But his cold’s inviting, I cannot see,

That I’m the dagger he plunged into me.

But sometimes I run, I run and hide,

Inside the burrows of foxes so sly. 

He sings to me sweetly, twirls in my eyes,

Picks me like flowers, I am the one.

My vision’s blurry, knees getting weak,

We do not speak, the dance’s our tongue.

With a flick of his wrist he makes me forget,

Of the wounds so deep I cannot amend.

Of grasshoppers, moons, mosses and ferns, 

And silhouettes of the swallows foretold.

Under these pyres blazing and high,

I celebrate the loss of my life.

Among the bodies, naked and hot,

I contemplate the things that I am not.

And sometimes I run, I run and hide,

A short story (made only for this occasion). This was the original plot of their first date and it happened on Belleteyn. But in the fic, it was changed on Emhyr's birthday. Hope you enjoy this self-indulgent cut content!

Sarah watched the garden workers create a huge pile for the kindling. A bonfire worthy of Belleteyn tonight. But she bade them farewell and happy feasting. She was not joining them.

Carrying a wicker picnic basket, Sarah left the city before curfew closed the gates. Earlier, she studied the map the emperor showed her, and memorized the path and landmarks to take. Light began to wane rapidly as the sun sank behind the mountains, turning the fire-red skies into shades of purple, dark blue and finally ebony.

It was not a long walk, and she was dressed for light travel. Her cream peasant dress was of the right length to avoid snagging and her soft shoes had sturdy soles made for such walks. Even at this distance she could hear and feel the excitement as people began their preparations for merriment, carousing, and the occasional giggle for a more lecherous and intimate celebration.

Sarah shared in their excitement, but she was not sharing it with them.

This was going to be a private celebration for her. Her first date, on Belleteyn of all days, sharing a meal with one instead of with many.

The excited babble and laughter faded as she stepped farther from the capital and into the forest. This place was protected, explicitly forbidden from entry except the emperor. He decreed it personally and anyone who steps out of line was shot in the head.

Emhyr provided her the safe route and she followed it. He didn't have to make the effort since she memorized the map, but he had slow burning tea candles mark the way for her. Sarah couldn't help but giggle like a some daft filly, her heart fluttered like the butterflies she passed.

Deeper and deeper she went. A night owl hooted, frogs croaked, insects buzzed and the distinct scree-scree noise of grasshoppers as they rub their hindlegs together. The forest sounds drown the merriment to nothing.

At last she reached a small clearing and the pond: its surface reflected the moon and stars. She saw a large tree marking the spot of their rendezvous. But where was Emhyr?

"You're here at last."

Startled at the deep baritone from behind, she whirled and saw the emperor emerge from the bushes. looking ever so splendid even in ordinary clothing.

"Have you been following me all this time, sire?"

He smiled. "I have, in case you lost your way. A needless worry it seems."

Sarah covered her mouth, muffling her laughter. She dropped her basket and ran into his awaiting arms. She sank into his warmth, inhaling his masculine scent. Emhyr tightened his embrace, lips pressed against her forehead. He whispered in her hair.

"I'm glad you came. I do not look forward to viewing the festivities alone."

They settled themselves onto the blanket: setting the food, wine, plates and goblets. They talked of mundane things that happened in the morning. And when, at a considerable distance, across and far beyond the pond, the first pyres lit followed by another, and another, Emhyr and Sarah leaned against the oaks' generous trunk. His arm draped around her shoulders and she snuggled against his chest.

Emhyr's hand squeezed her shoulder. "Do you participate in these Belleteyn feasts?"

Sarah glanced at him. She could smell the wine in his breath, surprised that he could imbibe so much and still remain coherent.

"Do you?" She tossed the question back at him. He chuckled. Typical Sarah: a question to answer a question.

"The one of many few occasions where I don't have to force myself to mingle with the nobles. Too many memories associated with this day that I wish to forget, but couldn't. That's why I watch the fires at a distance" he glanced at her and squeezed again, a grateful smile on his face. "This is the first I observe Belleteyn with someone other than my thoughts."

Sarah felt the affection in his voice flow into her, warming her more than the few glasses of wine she imbibed. She was drinking him with her eyes and she noticed he was doing the same thing. His deep ambers were smoldering, more than usual.

"I wasn't the most sociable person when I was a student, and so spent Belleteyn in my chambers with books for company. And when I was a hermit, I had my first proper look at the festivities, somewhere in Velen. Sadly I was busy planning for taking as much provision as I could for storage, steering clear of the drunken revelers as a few tried to pull me into some dark undergrowth. Luckily I didn't have to resort to brute force; they were to sloshed, I easily slipped from their grasp."

He growled. "I'll have my spies raid that village and ornament every tree with those that laid their hands on you."

"Emhyr! That was a long time ago-"

He laughed heartily at the look of horror on her face. She slapped his chest playfully.

"Oh you! And here I thought you have no sense of humor."

His expression softened. He turned his body to her, hand gently caressing her cheek. "Sarah, your presence has stirred many... troubling things that I long buried" he took her soft hand and placed it against the open shirt of his chest.

Sarah felt her own heart stirring as she felt his, beating against her palm.

"For too long I gave my time, my life, in service to the empire. Seeking the warmth in the arms of another woman without the tediousness of attachments. Forcing myself to be satisfied with facsimiles of love and affection for they serve no purpose in ruling, save as tools of manipulation. Then you came, and I find myself severely famished. Unsatisfied with the meager offerings. Becoming selfish, demanding for what the empire denies of me. You came, with your wisdom, kindness... and love. You offered me... my heart. And I want that. I want you."

Sarah couldn't say anything in return. He didn't give her a chance as his lips trapped those words when he kissed her with equal parts passion and tenderness. Instead she reciprocated: caressing his face, his hair. Their moments together are so few and far between that she was doing exactly what she does every Belleteyn: taking as much as she can to survive for days until the pangs of hunger, of longing, returns.

In the distance, the festivities are in full swing. More pyres dotted the horizon and laughter manage to rise above the night sounds, but Emhyr and Sarah were deaf to the world. The only sounds that matter were the sighs, the whispers and whimpers, the moans. And they couldn't separate who does what. Nothing matters this night except they are with each other, making this Belleteyn, a night to remember.

Hello lovelies! Here comes some very unedited kissing, written while at work by hand! Because that is what I do when I'm bored. Please enjoy <3

On Ao3 here

The thing about Belleteyn is that it is a night of love.

 They had stumbled upon a village the night before the festivities were starting, in a small village close to nowhere, deep in Velen. 

There are bonfires, ribbons hanging from the trees, children running around laughing, young couples holding hands jumping over pits of coals.

And then there is Jaskier.

He sits on a chair, plucking on the strings of his lute, singing a love song for the couples gathered around him. His eyes are on the ground, firelight making him look almost golden in the darkness.

Nobody is watching him. Nobody is reaching for him. They are all wrapped up in each other, which is all fine, Geralt wouldn't want it any other way.

But Jaskier is... well... He is not supposed to be alone. He is supposed to be loved and cherished, appreciated and.... and Geralt is in trouble.