#geralt x reader insert

After watching you for a few days, Geralt had decided you weren’t a threat. Sure, you were quiet, but you had started engaging with the pair and were always keen to help out. He shrugged before pushing you to the back of his mind, content that the next few weeks should be fairly easy and he would get decent pay out of it.

His assessment of you was shaken about two weeks into the journey. You had relaxed around them, even starting to respond to Jaskier’s gentle attempts to include you. The bard had been delighted at your responses, slowly working his way under your skin. You were funny, you had little quips that you would fire back at him followed by your clear laugh ringing through the air. Geralt had thought that maybe he would have had to keep him away from you but Jaskier had been on his best behavior, not going past any mild flirting. The Witcher had chalked it up to the fact Jaskier was respecting that Geralt was travelling with them as well, not wanting to suffer the Witcher’s silent glare he directed at the bard whenever he engaged in a tryst within earshot.

Though still wary, Geralt gradually grew to realize he enjoyed your company. Your laugh would coax a faint smile out of him; you left gentle touches on his shoulder as you passed him while setting up camp. He was astounded; normally nobles were disgusted by him, not wanting to get too close. You were different though: this was the most relaxed that Geralt had seen you since the journey had started. 

What really transformed his opinion of you was when Geralt had awoken in the middle of the night to hear you crying. You had tried to keep quiet, muffling the sounds into your blanket as you sobbed. He hadn’t moved, not wanting to let you know that he was awake to overhear your misery. This happened this next several days: Geralt waking up to hear you crying softly to yourself. He never addressed it, only making sure that a plate of food was ready for you, gently pushing it in your direction. He was met with puffy, red rimmed eyes and a wet smile, a soft murmur of thanks occasionally accompanying them.

Geralt tried to push one day, asking you about where you were traveling and the real reason behind it. He didn’t know why he cared, but something wasn’t sitting right with him, and maybe he enjoyed your company and didn’t like seeing you so sad. Obviously this wasn’t just a regular business deal; an ordinary contract wouldn’t drive you to tears nearly every night. You had dodged the questions, giving generic answers that sounded like they had been memorized, as if for a test. When he asked about the details of the business deal, you shut down. You offered him a tight smile before announcing that the group needed more wood and disappearing into the trees. Jaskier had sent a glance at the Witcher, confused by your mood. “What was that about?”

Geralt could only offer a shrug, unable to answer the bard’s question. The two continued staring at the fire, letting their sore muscles relax after the long day of travel. The quiet was broken by a sudden scream. Geralt shot to his feet, sprinting into the woods before he had consciously decided to move and cursing himself for letting you go off on your own.

As he raced through the forest, he could hear the clash of steel on steel, punctuated by shouting, the sounds of a fight reaching him through the trees. He skidded to a stop in a clearing, sword in hand. As he frantically searched the area, a flash of light alerted him to a blade swinging for his head. He spun to the side, knocking the sword away and down with his own as he came face to face with you, wild-eyed as you dropped your weapon at the sight of him. He had forgotten that you wore a sword.

The Witcher gaped at you as Jaskier came running in behind him, the stunned silence that had fallen over the clearing broken by your sobs as tears spilled from your eyes. Jaskier was quick to wrap you in an embrace, shushing you as he ran a hand soothingly through your hair, supporting you as you sagged towards the ground. Geralt didn’t relax, sharp gaze scanning the clearing in an effort to determine what had happened. His confusion rose as he saw three bodies scattered across the ground, clearly having been dispatched by a blade. 

It wasn't often that the Witcher was surprised. You were clearly competent with a sword; he couldn’t think of any other explanation for the three dead men and the bloodied blade you had dropped. Trusting Jaskier to look after you, he moved cautiously towards the men, kneeling next to the first one as he searched the body for clues that would give an indication of who had attacked you and why. As he looked at the uniform the first man was wearing, he recognized the Vaithan crest, a kingdom across the river from the one you had left. Sparing a glance at the other two, his frown grew as he saw the same uniforms adorning them. Why were Vaithan soldiers after you? Why were the royal guards getting involved in a business deal?

Investigation finished, Geralt approached the pair, drawing Jaskier’s attention as he neared. He gestured back towards your campsite, the bard understanding his silent request as he nudged you to a standing position, pulling you against himself to help support you. You stumbled along, eyes glassy as your breath hitched in short, shallow gasps. 

Reaching your things, Geralt helped Jaskier get you onto the ground, busying himself with cleaning your sword as the other man continued to soothe you before turning his attention to the fire. His mind was whirling, confused thoughts surrounding you and the reasons behind your journey. There were people after you, that was clear, but he didn’t understand why. He was just adding more wood to stoke the flames when Jaskier’s low voice broke into his thoughts. The tone that the bard had used aroused concern in him.

“Geralt, can you come take a look at this?” As the Witcher approached, Jaskier held his arm out, hand covered in blood. Geralt’s heart shot into his mouth, panicked as he rushed towards the bard, hands darting out as he searched the man for the wound he had to have sustained. 

“Geralt, Geralt! I’m fine! Geralt!” The bard was shouting at the man, slapping his hands away from his body. “It’s not mine!”

The Witcher froze as the words registered in his mind before turning his attention to you. He slowly moved to your other side, noting how your eyes were distant, chest labouring as you struggled for breath. Following Jaskier’s directions, he quickly cut away the bloodied cloth - how did he not notice this before, he should have smelled the scent of blood on you - to reveal a deep gash on the back of your upper arm. Jaskier maintained a tight grip on the wound, keeping the flow to a minimum as Geralt retrieved his healing supplies. A salve was quickly applied before stitches were put into the wound and a bandage wrapped around the arm. You were unresponsive throughout the Witcher’s ministrations, the man having to gently move you to get access to your wound. As the first stitch went in you flinched, before remaining motionless as he continued. He could hear your breaths hitching as he worked, heart pulling at your unresponsiveness.

After coaxing a sleeping potion into you, the pair put you to bed, Geralt drawing a blanket over your shoulders as a heavy feeling settled in his gut at your stillness. He listened attentively, reassured by the sound of your thumping steadily in his ears as he watched your chest rise and fall. He told himself it was because of the job: it was his responsibility to keep you safe, there was nothing else behind the concern that he felt for you.

**~*~*~*~**

You were a little groggy the next morning, not quite functioning at one hundred percent. Geralt found it fucking funny, you were normally so put together that seeing you lost was a little bit endearing. You looked like a puppy, wide eyed and pouting. He helped you throughout the day, making sure you ate breakfast, redressing your wound, and keeping you on Roach with him while Jaskier rode your horse. He kept this up throughout the next few days, even as you started being able to do things yourself. Something in his chest would soften, a tightly coiled knot tugged loose when you would smile shyly up at him and quietly thank him, and Geralt found himself doing more for you just to draw them out.

Once you had healed, he tentatively asked if you wanted to practice your swordwork. You were clearly competent (you had taken down three grown men on your own, after all) but he wanted to make see for himself. Knowing you were smaller than him and weren’t as strong, Geralt decided he would tone it down a little bit to give you a fighting chance. Little did he know that you had been trained by one of the best swordmasters in your kingdom, maybe the continent. You had been the youngest of five daughters, so your father had treated you like the son he never had. You had been allowed to run rampant, joining him on hunts and practicing swordplay. This had left you a free spirit, never content to sit through the stuffy business deals your family conducted. This was the most fun you had had in a long time. 

Without the knowledge that you were an extremely well trained swordswoman, Geralt held himself back as he faced off against you. Much to his surprise he quickly found himself on his back, your sword at his throat. Looking up to see a cocky grin on your face, clearly pleased with how quickly you had overcome him, he felt a flash of admiration and something else burn through him. The scent of pride drifted through the air towards him, pushing him over the edge. He growled low in his throat as he knocked your blade away, leaping to his feet as he grabbed for his sword, throwing himself completely into sparring as you recovered from the surprise, a feral laugh bursting out of your chest. As you held your own against him, Geralt felt proud, and a little bit excited he had finally found someone who could keep up with him.

The fight ended as Geralt twisted his blade, sending yours flying across the clearing. He was reversing it to bring to your throat, caught off guard as you launched yourself at him with a shout, wrestling him for the sword as you tackled him to the ground. The blade was quickly lost as you rolled through the grass, your breathless giggles warming Geralt’s heart. He ended up on top of you, arms on either side of your head as he supported his body over yours. You grinned up at him, chest heaving, clearly pleased with your performance. Your expression slowly changed to something else, something more intense that the Witcher couldn’t read as your scent changed. It was a pleasant mixture, light and airy, not something he normally smelt, a sharp scent mixed in that he couldn’t identify. He could hear your heart racing in your chest as you gazed up at him, lips parted as you remained relaxed beneath him.

He didn’t know what came over him as his eyes flicked down to your lips and back up before leaning down, your breath mixing with his as he got closer. Abruptly, Jaskier’s loud voice boomed through the clearing, startling the two of you as Geralt rolled to his feet, sticking a hand out to help you up. He could see a light blush dusting your cheeks as you fixed your clothes, refusing to look at him. Disappointment and embarrassment drifted through the air, confusing the Witcher before he shook himself, turning to see a slightly inebriated bard stumbling through the trees. Your attention was quickly taken as you fussed over Jaskier, forcing water and some herbs into him before you put him to bed. As you did this, Geralt kept catching the glances you sent his way, charged with something that he couldn’t identify. 

As the days went on, you relaxed further with the two, starting to show physical affection to the both of them. Jaskier was given playful swats whenever he would tease you, accompanied by your laugh as you quipped something back at him. Geralt found he wanted to see the smiles sent his way, rather than the bard’s, though he was not without your attention. You gifted the Witcher with gentle lingering touches, your hand resting on his shoulder or his arm as you would slip past him. Sometimes, you would cajole the man to sit in front of you as you carefully brushed and braided his hair, working loose the tangles formed during one of your sparring sessions or a hunt. 

You were still being hunted, but now that Geralt knew it was Vaithan soldiers after you it was easy to evade them. He had worked with them before, so he was familiar with their patrol patterns and tracking methods. He would lay false trails for them, sending them on wild goose chases through the wilderness. Occasionally they would catch up to the small group, but between you and Geralt they were quickly dispatched. The aftermath was filled with gentle touches from you or the Witcher, the other sitting quietly through their ministrations. There were no serious wounds; the two of you quickly learned each other’s fighting styles and adapted to complement each other. Often there were no wounds to be found, just sore muscles to be attended to. 

As you got more comfortable in the Witcher’s presence, you started teasing him as well. Nicknames like ‘the big bad wolf’ or ‘big bad witcher’ started to be commonplace in your vocabulary. He would tease you back, calling you ‘flower’ or ‘little duck’. If he was particularly annoyed with you, ‘princess’ would appear. You had flinched the first time he called you that, before firing back a particularly clever quip, drawing Jaskier in as well. You didn’t flinch the second time, but Geralt didn’t often use that nickname, sensing there was something else behind it.

When you were close to towns Jaskier started finding reasons to leave the two of you alone. It was awkward at first, but you quickly fell into a rhythm. There was a lot of teasing that slowly fell into a companionable silence, which you sometimes filled with your chatter. It often ended with you tucked into Geralt’s side, tracing patterns into his knee as you stared at the fire. His fingers would fidget, tapping different rhythms onto your skin. It was nice, Geralt thought, having someone to share the silence with. Jaskier never shut up, but he was also just a friend. You, you were different, maybe more than a friend. As he came to this realization, he looked down to find you staring up at him, emotion swimming in your eyes. 

The air felt charged, as if he was being drawn to you. The world stopped as he drowned in your eyes, pulled into their Y/E/C depths as he slowly leaned down, your eyes fluttering shut but not releasing him from their spell as he pressed his lips against yours, breath mingling as you sighed into him. You shifted, turning your body into him as one hand found his chest while the other fisted into his hair. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him. You went willingly, allowing yourself to be moved so that you were straddling his thighs, leaning into his chest as your lips moved against his. He only pulled back when he needed air, your chest heaving as you leaned your forehead against him. He opened his eyes to see a smile, face serene as you caught your breath. As if you felt his gaze on you your eyes opened to meet his. He felt as if he was caught within your gaze, peace filling him, feeling as if he was finally able to get air after drowning for so long. 

You giggled as you lay your head on his chest, draping yourself against him. “This is nice,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his middle as you went boneless against him. 

Geralt hummed in agreement, liking the warm feeling that came over him at the feeling of your body on his. He tightened his arms around your waist, holding you close. He could smell your pleasure drifting through the air, encouraging him to nuzzle into your hair.

“I wish I could stay like this forever, in this moment with you.” You pulled back slightly, looking at the man with a genuine expression on your face. “I really do care for you, Geralt. Thank you.”

Your hand came up to cup his cheek and he leaned into it, keeping his eyes on you. His lips quirked upwards before he leaned forward, capturing your lips again. This kiss was messy, a battle of tongue and teeth as he nipped your bottom lip, exploring your mouth with his tongue when you gasped at the sensation. His hands roamed downwards, finding a place on your ass as you moaned into his mouth. He swallowed the sounds, chasing you until one of your hands tangled itself into his hair, pulling on the strands. He growled at the feeling, kissing and nipping down your neck as you gasped, grinding down on him. 

You tilted your head back, granting him better access to your throat. A rush of adrenaline ran through him at that motion; he didn’t want you baring your throat for any other man, you were his. Overcome by the desire to claim, he bit down on tender, supple skin, sucking a mark into the hollow above your collarbone. You yelped at the action, tugging at his hair again. Your breath stuttered as you managed to gasp his name, “Ger- Geralt, I can’t.”

He growled again, pleased that he had reduced you to this. He moved to your other side, biting at your shoulder, groaning as you jerked against him. “Geralt, stop, please-”

At the sound of your pleading voice, some sort of warning went off, forcing him to think rather than acting on his baser instincts. He drew back, pausing at the look on your face. He couldn’t smell the bitter scent of fear, but you looked nervous. You were flushed, lips swollen from his attention, but your eyes held a hidden emotion. Frowning, he ran a hand through your hair as you refused to meet his gaze. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - Sorry, I just-”

He halted your stuttering as he pressed a chaste kiss against your lips, knot loosening in his chest as you melted against him, returning the kiss fiercely. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t ask. Forgive me, little duck.”

You smiled before tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “I do- want to- I just, I’ve never...” Again, he shushed you, one hand rubbing patterns into your back as the other tightened around your waist.

“I have all the time in the world for you. We’ll take it slow.”

**~*~*~*~**

After that night, you were much more tactile with the Witcher. Most nights found you in his lap, relaxing into his embrace as you wildly told a story from your childhood, Jaskier in stitches next to you. You started pulling your bedroll closer to his, inching it closer night by night. The bard had finally had enough of your bullshit, marching over and picking up your bedroll only to lay it next to Geralt’s as he shot a knowing look at the two of you. You had blushed at that, refusing to look at either man for a little while. You hadn’t moved it back though, and the next morning you had woken up with your legs tangled in Geralt’s, head on his chest as he held you tucked against him. 

You stole kisses from him throughout the day, leaving gentle touches on his arms as you passed him. You let Jaskier ride your horse, choosing instead to stay with Geralt, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around you as you travelled. You continued your training bouts, though they often ended in fierce makeout sessions rather than actual fighting. It was a good life, and you were happy with what you had. You could almost forget about your destination, about the actual reason for your travelling, the one that neither man knew about.

Almost.

**~*~*~*~**

As the small trio got closer to their destination, you grew tenser and quieter, shrinking into yourself as you withdrew from the pair. Jaskier tried to draw you out of your shell, but his best attempts weren’t enough. Geralt pressed you, trying to understand why you were suddenly pulling away, frustrated at the lack of response. One night, when Jaskier had left the two of you alone, Geralt confronted you about what was happening.

“Y/N, I don’t understand. What’s wrong?” Geralt had knelt in front of you, effectively trapping you as you would have had to step over and around him to escape. You couldn’t meet his gaze as you responded.

“Nothing is wrong, Geralt, I am merely preparing for when I meet my betrothed.” At your words, it felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over the Witcher, dousing him in the reality of your situation. He had forgotten you were a noble, seeming to enjoy playing games with those you considered beneath you. And play you had, leading Geralt on as he escorted you to your marriage. You weren’t any different than the rest of them.

“Your betrothed.” He saw you flinch at his flat tone, face dropping as you realized your misstep. “I see. This was all just a game to you, something to keep your mind occupied while we travelled.” 

Geralt stood, turning his back to and walking away. He closed his eyes at your sharp inhale, could hear your heart rate increase as you stumbled to your feet, chasing after him. “I will get you to your destination, and then after that I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Geralt, no, it’s not like that, you don’t understand- I would never-” He shrugged your hand off as you reached for his arm, turning to face you with a look of rage on his face. You recoiled at that action, face shocked as you pulled your hand to your chest. His heart sunk at the fear on your face, he could smell the acrid scent diffusing into the air, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He wouldn’t let you continue with this little game.

“What don’t I understand, princess?” he near-snarled, sneering when you flinched at the nickname. “I think it’s pretty straightforward. I was supposed to be escorting you to your wedding, and you’ve played my heart. I lo--I cared for you, I let you in. I don’t do that, never do that. But I did for you and you played me like a fucking string. Well, I thank you, princess, for illuminating that fact for me. I will make sure to never do this again.”

He turned away, fist clenching at his side as he controlled himself. He started walking away from you, pausing as he heard you let out a sob and fall to the ground, voice breaking as you screamed at him. “That’s what you don’t understand, that fucking nickname! It’s haunted me my entire life, and you were the only one who saw it for what it was, a nickname, not my fucking title!”

His heart clenched at the heartbreak clear in your voice. He closed his eyes, inhaling deepling through his nose as he fought to keep himself from running to you, wanting nothing more than to take the agony out of your voice. Cautiously, he glanced over his shoulder, seeing you on your knees, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Princess,” you spat, a vicious expression on your face. “I never wanted to be a princess, I hated being a princess. I forgot, Geralt, you let me forget that that’s what I was! I could be normal with you, you and Jaskier, who didn’t care about the pomp and celebration. You wanted nothing from me. I could let my guard down around you and just be myself! I didn’t, I don’t want this marriage, it’s the last thing I would do if I had the choice! But I’ll never escape it, Geralt, they will chase me down and lock me away, dress me up in fancy clothes and keep me a prisoner in that damn castle. I only want to stay with you.”

Your voice broke on the last word as sobs ripped their way out of your throat, finally releasing the misery and anguish that had been building up over the last few weeks. Geralt was left reeling; you were a princess? Fuck, that explained so much. He had known there was more to this business deal than what it appeared to be: this was a political marriage. You clearly didn’t want it, not that you seemed to have a choice. Geralt was torn: you had lied to him, yes, but it was clear you hadn’t wanted to or done it with any ill intentions. He hung his head, trying to figure out what he wanted to do. You sounded so miserable, all he wanted to do was wrap you up in his arms and protect you from the hardships of the world.

He cautiously approached you, heart breaking at the gut wrenching sobs that were being torn from your chest. He slowly knelt in front of you, reaching a hand out to place under your chin, drawing your gaze up to his. You met his eyes and Geralt could see the pain that was swimming behind your irises. His voice was soft when he spoke, though still reserved. “I believe you.”

At his words, you launched yourself forwards, catching him off guard as your momentum pushed him backwards to land on his backside, you clutched to his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you babbled, words streaming out of you as you clutched at his clothing, trying desperately to get as close as you could.

He shushed you, arms pulling you closer as he tucked your head beneath his chin. He slowly rocked you, listening to the sound of your heartbeat as he examined his memories of the last few weeks, finding only fondness and warmth; he couldn’t find anything that would suggest you were doing this to hurt him. He could hear your laugh in his ears and it sounded genuine. The sobs that were forcing their way out of you were undoubtedly real, and Geralt found he didn’t want you to hurt anymore, only wanting to protect you. He dropped a kiss on the top of your head, hand releasing you to rub patterns into your back, soothing you as he continued his gentle circling motion. 

You quieted after several minutes, hiccuping as you tried to pull away. Geralt held on a moment longer, tightening his grip before rearranging you so that you were seated sideways in his lap, legs draped over his thigh as your shoulder rested against his chest. He held you loosely, arms draped around your waist as he waited for you to speak. “I’m sorry, Geralt, that I didn’t tell you the truth. I’ll understand if you want me to finish this journey by myself, if you don’t want to see me again. I’ll still give you your coin, you’ve escorted me most of the way there.”

Geralt was stunned; that was the last thing he had expected you to say. As the meaning of the words registered, he found that he didn’t want to leave you, that he didn’t want to say goodbye. It was a new feeling, a knot loosened in his chest as something pleasant warmed him from his toes up to his head. He tightened his grip on you, drawing a squeak as he growled, “I’m not letting you go anywhere, little duck.”

Your breath hitched as you stared up at him, puffy eyes filled with hope. “You don’t hate me?” Your voice was small, hesitant as you spoke.

The Witcher looked down at you, hand reaching up to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against yours, smiling when you sighed into his mouth and melted into his chest. Your hands came up to fist into his shirt, just resting against him. He drew away slowly, hesitant to see the look in your eyes. One of your hands came up to cup his cheek, and he instinctively turned his face into the warmth, nuzzling your palm as he pressed into the touch. You smiled up at him, eyes soft as a whispered “thank you” fell from your lips. You curled into him, hands back on his chest as you slowly drifted, Geralt holding you against him as you fell asleep. 

This was how Jaskier found the two of you a while later, a soft smile appearing on his face. When he opened his mouth to say something, Geralt growled at him. “Not a word, bard.”

Jaskier held his hands up in surrender, turning away to set up his bedroll with a smirk on his face.

**~*~*~*~**

The next two days were sad but gentle, the two of you trying to steal away as many moments together as you could before you had to leave. The Witcher had suggested not delivering you to the castle, but you had smiled sadly as you shook your head. Reaching up to run your fingers down his cheek, you had explained that you had tried to run away before, only to be hunted down and returned to your parents. After that, you hadn’t been allowed to be alone, always having a servant or guard watching you to make sure you stayed. Even before you left, your mother had warned you that if you didn’t uphold your end of the marriage, you wouldn’t have a moment of peace; you would be hunted until you were found and returned to your betrothed’s side. 

As the castle came into view, you requested a brief respite. Geralt had frowned at you as you untied a bag from your saddle, but you only offered him a tight smile before slipping into the woods. Jaskier had glanced over at the Witcher, a question on his lips, but Geralt had only shrugged, an expression that said I’m just as confused as you are on his face. It had been several minutes since you had disappeared, and Geralt shifting nervously as you still didn’t reappear. He had just made up his mind, dismounting to go after you when you appeared in the trees, the sight of you making Geralt’s heart stop.

You had changed out of your travelling clothes into a magnificent dress. The dress itself was made out of fine silk, the colour complimenting your Y/E/C eyes. It fell to your ankles, soft slippers peeking out from beneath the hem. Your sleeves ended just past your elbows, fine lace forming a ruffle along the ends. The collar draped across your chest, sleeves just off your shoulders as two thin straps covered in jewels connected behind your chest. Your hair was piled high on your head, a silver crown resting in the plaits.

Geralt realized he was staring when you blushed, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. “Do I look okay?” you asked demurely, shy now that your travelling companions saw you for who you really were.

“Do you look- Darling, you look amazing! That colour really suits you, it's no wonder Geralt is- ow!” The bard cut himself off as one of the Witcher’s hands shot out to smack him upside the head. Jaskier muttered to himself as he rubbed at the irritated spot, cursing Witchers under his breath. Geralt approached you, hands reaching for yours as he gazed down at you, the warm feeling he so often in your presence felt bubbling up inside him once more. You wouldn’t meet his eyes, so he reached out and lifted your chin, admiring you the whole while.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, the corners of his lips turning up as you blushed once more. You fingers tightened on his before you let go, retreating back to your horse. Mounting, you settled yourself with your skirts hitched to your knees, ignoring the wolf whistle the bard let out at the sight. “Fuck off, I hate riding side saddle.”

Geralt grinned at that, before realizing what this meant. You were to be parted soon, sold off like property in order to further your kingdom’s advances. He understood your reasons, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. A silence fell over the group as Geralt followed your lead, remounting Roach before falling in behind you. 

As you rode up to the gates, Geralt watched your posture change. The laid back traveller was quickly replaced by the royal princess, back straightening as you held your head high. You no longer looked around to admire the sights, looking straight ahead as you ignored the merchants passing you on the road. You didn’t acknowledge the guards who stopped your progress, allowing Jaskier to announce you when they inquired. Your small group was quickly led to an antechamber, Geralt insisting that he wait with you in order to see the contract completed. 

As the door closed behind the soldier, your posture slumped, tears coming to your eyes. Geralt was quick to cross the room, kneeling in front of you as you collapsed into a chair, blinking up at the ceiling to stop yourself from crying. He rested a hand on yours, intertwining your fingers as he squeezed, offering silent support. Jaskier did the same, perching himself on the arm of your chair, hand squeezing your shoulder to remind you he was there. 

You composed yourself as the door opened, standing to meet the page that entered. He bowed deeply before gesturing that you should follow him. You took a moment, straightening your back as you fussed with your dress before stepping forward, any hint of hesitation or reluctance gone from your posture. Geralt and Jaskier followed at your sides, a somber feeling overcoming the party. Jaskier looked close to being in tears, having gotten close to you over the journey. Geralt felt much the same, not wanting to let you go but understanding he had to.

His heart clenched as the double doors in front of their party opened, revealing the throne room to them. There were two people sat on the thrones perched on the dais, with a small group of people standing below. They turned at the sound of the doors

 The page announced “Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N of Tairis” before bowing as you swept into the room. 

Geralt almost stumbled as he spotted the prince approaching you, a sharp feeling flaring in his chest before he shoved it down. Was that…. It couldn’t be. He was brought back to the present as you curtsied, holding your hand out to the prince to kiss as he bent over it. “Prince Raleigh, it’s so good to finally meet you,” you murmured, a fake smile pasted on your face.

The prince answered you, but Geralt didn’t hear it as the world halted around him, the prince’s name pulling a memory from deep within him. As he stared at the young man, he could see that the prince wasn’t happy with this arrangement either, he could smell the fear and reluctance wafting through the air. Hope bubbling up in his chest. Geralt waited as you completed your greetings before striding over to the prince, bowing in greeting.

“Geralt!” the man exclaimed, a genuine smile appearing on his face. “How are you? It’s been what, three years since I last saw you?”

“That is has been,” Geralt rumbled, pleased that the prince was still the happy young man underneath the layers of formality. “But if I may have a word with you, Prince Raleigh? Privately?”

“Of course, of course! Anything for you, my good Witcher,” the prince was quick to lead him to an office as he ignored the half-hearted protests from his staff. As he closed the door behind him, he turned to face Geralt, face dropping as he continued. “It’s felt like it's been longer than three years since we last saw each other, my friend. And as much as I am glad to see you again, our meeting is tainted by your contract. I wish you had just come to visit.”

Geralt’s eyebrows rose at the prince’s bluntness, struggling to keep the hope that flared in his chest from showing on his face. “Oh? You weren’t looking forward to meeting your betrothed?”

The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he kept his face neutral, not wanting to give anything away. The prince made a face at his question, leaning against the desk in the middle of the room as he crossed his arms across his chest. “I wasn’t aware that she was even my betrothed before yesterday. Apparently it was a deal our parents had made when we were young, and they ‘forgot’ to mention it to me.” The last sentence was accompanied by air quotes, the tone overly sarcastic.

The prince pushed off of the desk, walking over to gaze out the window as he continued. “I had hoped to court someone else, to have had the chance to explore, marry for love, maybe. She’s beautiful, she just makes my heart sing.” He glanced over at Geralt as the Witcher moved to join him. He grinned wryly, “But it was not to be, eh?”

“What if it was?” Raleigh shot Geralt a sharp look at his question. Turning fully to look at him, the prince narrowed eyes, “What do you mean by that?”

“Do you remember how we met, prince?” Geralt walked over to the desk, picking up a quill from the surface and toying with it. “How I saved your life?”

“Yes, and then when I asked what you wanted in return you said…” as he trailed off, Raleigh turned to look at the Witcher, realization dawning on his face as what Geralt was suggesting became apparent. ‘You would claim-” he cut himself off, not wanting to voice the hope that was slowly wafting through the room. 

Geralt nodded, keeping his gaze on the prince. “I would, I- I love her.”

The prince grinned at his admission, hope flaring in his eyes. “Well then, my dear Witcher, let’s go turn that fucking room on it’s head. Lead the way.”

Returning to the room, the two men found two groups of people waiting; the royals murmuring amongst themselves as Jaskier and Y/N waited on the other side of the room, sending anxious glances towards the office. The prince bounced over to the group, a brilliant smile on his face. His parents looked at him warily, the group dispersing as you and Jaskier made your way over to join them. The prince made a grand bow as he stopped in front of the king and queen, flourishing as he stood. “Mother, Father, Sir Geralt has something he would like to say.”

The Witcher stepped up beside the prince, meeting the royals’ gazes. In a low voice, Geralt spoke the line he had been angling for ever since he saw your betrothed. “I claim the Law of Surprise that Prince Raleigh owes me, in return for saving his life.”

He ignored the sharp inhale that came from the queen as she realized where he was going with this. “I claim that which the prince possesses but does not know: I claim Princess Y/N.”

As he spoke that damning sentence, he turned to you, watched the surprise flit over your face before you settled on hope, your eyes shining as you realized what he had done. As conversation burst out behind him, Prince Raleigh shouting over his parents to make himself heard, he only had eyes for you. His gaze roamed over your face, taking in all of the little details he hadn’t let himself notice since you had revealed your secret. He could see the tension draining out of your shoulders as he stepped closer to you, unshed tears shining in your brilliant eyes. He could smell your hope, your happiness drifting through the air towards him as you dared to allow yourself the thought that this may end up the way you wanted it to. 

As he took another step towards you, your expression broke as you rushed towards him, jumping into his arms as he pulled you against him, tangling his hand in your hair as his other wrapped around your waist, holding you to his chest. He looked down at you, saw the happiness shining in your gaze as you stared back before he lowered his head, capturing your lips with his as he swallowed your sigh. Pulling back, he rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he basked in your scent. 

Feeling a hand on his arm, Geralt opened his eyes and looked to the side to see Jaskier standing there, a huge grin on his face. You laughed quietly, reaching an arm out to tug the bard into the hug, clinging to both him and Geralt as he wrapped you in his arms, pulling the Witcher back in when he tried to pull away. The larger man grumbled under his breath but let himself be squished into the embrace. As silence fell, the three of you pulled away to see the rest of the people in the room staring at you. The king and his advisors all had impassive expressions while the queen and Prince Raleigh were looking at the three of you softly. 

The king opened his mouth to say something but was stopped by a hand on his arm. The queen smiled gently at him before turning her gaze to you. Geralt felt you shift nervously beneath his arm, could smell your anxiety as you waited for the answer to the Witcher’s claim. He could hear your heart racing, its rhythm picking up as the queen smiled, stepping forward as she gestured for you to do the same. She took your hands as you approached her, before pulling you in for a hug. Geralt could hear her whispered words, meant only for you. “I wish you all of the best, dear. As much as I wish you could join our family, I realize now that you’ve found your place in life.”

You let out a sob, gripping the woman tighter as you mumbled thank yous. She shushed you, running a hand down your back as she pulled away, smiling down at you, reaching up to brush the tears from your cheeks. She looked at Geralt, holding out a hand to him. The Witcher was quick to join her, placing his larger hand in hers. She smiled up at him, “Take care of her, she is a precious gift.”

“Of course,” he replied, taking your hand in his other, squeezing your fingers as he smiled down at you. You looked back, beaming up at him, adoration clear in your eyes.

The queen moved behind you two, placing her hands on your shoulders as she announced, “The Law of Surprise has been claimed! And I acknowledge it. Princess Y/N satisfies the Witcher Geralt’s claim, as destiny proclaims.”

Prince Raleigh cheered at his mother’s proclamation as Geralt tucked you back into him. The queen turned around in response to your questioning hand. “Would you- would it be possible for you to- my parents-” you stuttered, adoration filling Geralt’s heart as your royal demeanor fell away. 

“It’s no problem, child, what would you like?” The queen took your hand between both of hers, you calming at her touch. You took a deep breath, reaching up to pull the crown from your hair before handing it to her. Geralt felt like his heart might burst, understanding the silent symbolism of shedding your royal duties. 

“Of course, I will send this back to your parents and let them know what has come of you. Now go, child, enjoy your new life.” You relaxed at her words, at the finality of her taking your crown. You thanked her before turning back to Geralt, tugging on his hand as you left the throne room, leaving your old life behind. Jaskier quickly followed you, face breaking out into a brilliant grin as the three of you rode out of the gates. Your laughter filled the air, lifting Geralt’s heart at the sound. You left the castle, Geralt taking a moment to stop and ponder it. When they had entered earlier that day, silence and misery had been all that had accompanied; now that you were leaving with him, his soul felt lighter, heart happy as you took your rightful place by his side.

Later that night, Geralt watched you with a fond gaze as you gleefully burnt your dress, severing that last link to your life that you had. As you looked up, you met his gaze over the fire. Seeing the sheer happiness and joy that was on your face felt like the most important thing in the world to him, he wouldn’t have changed anything in the world. As you finished poking at the fabric, you came over to him, dropping a kiss on his hair as you sat down, tucking yourself under his arm. He pulled you closer to him, lacing his free hand with yours as he relaxed, leaning his chin on your head as he inhaled your scent. He felt comforted, happy, now that he had you with him. 

He settled further into the grass, pulling you down as he lay back. You let out a soft noise that sparked a warm heat in the middle of his chest, prompting him to roll onto his side, tugging you closer so that your legs tangled with his as you pressed your nose into his chest, relaxing into his warmth. He murmured soft nonsense into your hair as you drifted, going limbless against him. Geralt sighed as you babbled in your sleep, relaxing as he let himself drift off to sleep alongside you.

**~*~*~*~**

Add yourself to my taglist!

Your fighting skills improved ever so slightly with each passing training. On day two, it already took Geralt more than one minute to make you land on your face. On day four, it was almost three minutes and you managed to hit him with the stick so hard, he pulled a grimace. It made you laugh and in the next moment, you were sitting on your ass after he kicked your legs away from under you. On day five you were finally allowed to use a sword for the first time. It rested heavy in your hand and felt different than expected. It took you a while to get used to it.

Your skin was covered in blue marks, your knees were grazed and every limb in your body sore. At home, you wore long-sleeved dresses despite the hot summer sun shining down on the town. One time when you were changing clothes, Geralt walked by the door and caught a glimpse of your bruised skin before quickly turning away. A sense of guilt rushed through him and he gritted his teeth. He wondered whether or not he was too harsh on you. The next day, the Witcher slowed down, taking it easy on you.

“Don’t go easy on me,” you demanded when you noticed it. “We only have ten days and you handling me with kid gloves won’t get me any further.”

He was reluctant at first but proceeded to follow your request.

You grew quite fond of the Witcher. (Maybe a little too fond.) He wasn’t much of a talker but you managed to tease some stories out of him one late evening. They were nothing less than impressive and got you dreaming of a life alongside him, fighting evil, saving people. Being aware that this would stay nothing more than a dream, you decided to enjoy the short time you had with him.

Geralt felt the same way about you. He had been so opposed to teaching you at first and now he looked forward to having dinner with you every evening and seeing you again in the mornings. You were a welcome distraction, a breath of fresh air with your cheerful nature. He saw that you grew up sheltered and lived a life far away from the troubles most people faced: hunger, poverty, sickness. And yet, something about you was different. To him it seemed like you craved breaking out of that bubble that protected you and wanted to experience the world for how it really was with all its terrifying sights. However, Geralt wasn’t sure if you truly understood what that meant for you.

Jaskier noticed quickly how intrigued Geralt was by you. He saw the way the Witcher looked at you – always one second too long – and perceived the way he smiled when you told a story or made a joke. Obviously Jaskier wasn’t able to just shut up about it. Oh no. When you were gone he relentlessly teased Geralt for his little crush on you. Even when you were around, the occasional comment slipped out followed by an angry glance coming from Geralt.

This didn’t just go by unnoticed by you. It caused you to blush and to quickly look down on your plate. Jaskier was making fun of you, you thought in those moments. He must have noticed how you acted around Geralt and it was embarrassing. Obviously, Geralt did not feel the same. You were nothing more than a job to him. A way to pass time and earn some money on the side. How else could you explain the angry way he looked at Jaskier after every comment the bard made?

 *** 

Day 10

“Nervous?” Geralt appeared next to you.

You were leaning against a tree, looking at the clearing where you had spent the past ten days trying to learn how to fight. In all honesty, you weren’t sure how to feel. On the hand, you were sad that it would all be over by tonight. You would probably never see Geralt and Jaskier or pet Roach again. You’d be left behind, returning to your old life. On the other hand, you were excited and nervous about the upcoming fight.

It was a duel between you and Jaskier. On the first night, Geralt had promised you that by the end of the training you’d be able to win against the bard. When you first informed Jaskier about it he was appalled and a little insulted but came around the next day. You could only wonder about what Geralt had said to him.

“I shouldn’t be the one that’s nervous,” you smiled at the Witcher in a cocky manner. “After all, you’re gonna lose all your money if Jaskier wins.”

“No, I have no reason to be nervous. I have faith in you. Besides – if Jaskier wins I’ll make him regret it,” he added with a wink.

You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“Apologies for my late arrival!”

You turned around and saw Jaskier step out the woods. He wore a big grin on his face and seemed to be in an excellent mood. “I was …,” he cleared his throat, “…busy.”

“Found another girl with no self-respect?” Geralt asked dryly. The question made you chuckle.

“Normally I would be offended by this insult, Geralt,” Jaskier shook his head but the grin didn’t vanish from his face.

“What’s different today?“ You wanted to know.

“Today, dear Y/N, I didn’t only find one girl with no self-respect,” he paused dramatically, “… but two.”

“Oh gods,” Geralt groaned.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you laughed again. Jaskier and you got along well from the day you met him. He was funny and a sweetheart and in all truthfulness, you understood why women liked the bard.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Geralt,” Jaskier teased the Witcher.

“Enough already,” the man replied. “We’re here for another reason, aren’t we?”

“Oh yes,” Jaskier rubbed his hands together. “I heard Y/N wants to experience what loosing feels like.”

“Do you not get your ass kicked enough by the husbands of your conquests or why are you so cocky?” You stepped away from the tree and walked towards the middle of the clearing. Jaskier followed behind you as you two continued your banter.

The two of you faced each other, ten feet apart. You reached for your sword, gripping it tightly, trying not to let his snarky comments distract you.

“Well, you know the rules,” Geralt announced, making Jaskier shut up. “Let’s –“

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as a loud voice sounded behind you. “Y/N?!”

Fuck.

You whirled around, your skin white as a sheet.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N?!” Your brother walked towards you, holding the reins of his horse loosely in his hands.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What are you doing here?” You blurted out.

“I followed you. I wanted to know what you were up to. I didn’t believe the bullshit lies you told mother.” He stopped in front of you, eyeing you up and down. “For a good reason apparently. What are you wearing, what is this?”

“I…” There was nothing you could have said to make this situation better. The anger was written over your brothers face clear as day as he towered over you, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Wait, are you … are you fighting?” He almost barked out when he noticed the sword you were still hiding.

“Well, I …”

Again, he didn’t give you a chance to explain and did something that left you with confusion: he laughed. Loudly. “You got to be kidding me!” 

You blinked, taken aback by his reaction.

“Who is this, Y/N?” Geralt who had observed everything silently so far stepped forwards with a stern look on his face.

“Who the fuck are you?” Your brother demanded to know.

“Are you aware that we have more words in our language than ‘fuck’?” Apparently Jaskier didn’t plan on sitting this one out.

“Oh shut up, everyone!” You interfered quickly before your brother had a chance to reply. You turned to the Witcher. “Geralt, this is my brother.”

Geralt continued to stare at the other man. You noticed the tenseness in his body and sensed how quickly everything could escalate in the next few minutes. Your brother was the eldest of your siblings and always viewed himself as the protector of the family. In reality, he was only an ego-driven man with a lot of anger issues.

“Geralt?” He scoffed. “On first name basis already?”

“I hired him to teach me how to fight,” you began calmly as he hated nothing more than women with loud opinions. “I knew none of you would understand so I –”

“You’re damn right, I don’t understand any of this nonsense!”

„Maybe you would, if you’d let her finish for once,” Geralt pointed out.

Your brother didn’t answer right away. He let his gaze wander over the unusual clothes Geralt wore, his white hair, and the necklace resting against his chest. For a short moment you saw how his eyes slightly widened when he realized it. “You’re a Witcher. Geralt of Rivia, if I’m not mistaken,” he then stated.

Geralt smiled. “So you’re not as dumb as you look.”

“Geralt!” You hissed. Behind you, Jaskier chuckled.

Your brothers face grew red in anger. “I can’t believe you sought out these people, Y/N. How stupid are you women that –”

Geralts eyes narrowed. “Talk to her like that again and –“

“And what?” He snarled. “What will happen then? Will you attack me? Slaughter me like all the other innocent people that stand in your way, Butcher?!”

To your surprise, Geralt didn’t immediately reach for his sword. He did not move, he did not even blink at the words spoken to him. When your brother finished, he calmly said: “I might if you keep talking nonsense.”

“Stop it! Just stop it!” You finally snapped. Looking at your brother, you pleaded: “Let it go, please!”

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. Your brothers hand rested on the handle of his sword, his face still red with anger. He wanted to challenge Geralt, you just knew it. You were also aware that it would not end well. Your brother was a skilled fighter but could not compare to Geralt. Finally, he turned his look away from the Witcher, back to you. “You’re coming home with me now.”

“She will not.”

“It’s alright, Geralt,” you tried to appease him.

Your brother smirked at your words. “You heard her, Geralt.”

“It’s not alright,” Geralt countered. “Y/N, he has no right to treat you that way.”

“Stop it, please,” you urged him. “It’s okay.”

“Come on, now.” Visibly annoyed, your brother turned around. “Let’s go.”

You let out a sigh and rubbed over your eyes as a wave of sadness and disappointment washed over you. So this is how it had to end. 

“Y/N …” Jaskier began but you shook your head.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered softly and looked at Geralt. You were certain you’d never see him again. This was it. “Thank you for everything.”

Geralt simply nodded. No last words, no nothing. With a timid wave and a smile you sent towards Jaskier, you followed behind your brother.

“Father has to give you away already,” he stated when you caught up to him. “Maybe you’ll understand your role when you have a husband to serve.”

 *** 

“Uff,” Jaskier made when you were out of earshot. “That guy was … something.” 

He looked over to Geralt who kept staring at your back until you disappeared behind the trees. Even then, he remained still, brows furrowed.

“Well, at least you don’t have to pay her back,” Jaskier added, trying to lighten the mood.

Still nothing.

“You should have said something, y’know. Or at least smiled at her,” Jaskier shrugged. “She likes you. And you like her. Obviously.”

“This is not over,” Geralt then said.

 *** 

Midnight, you thought when you heard the bell outside your window. You were laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to process today’s events. When you had returned home, your family had been all over you. Asking questions that turned into accusations which resulted in screaming and crying. It had been shameful.

You were exhausted but your mind wouldn’t calm down. You thought about the past days and about Jaskier and Geralt. It shouldn’t have ended like this.

Knock knock knock.

You sat up.

Knock. 

There it was again. A quiet tapping on the door.

“Yes?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

The person on the other side must have heard you anyways because the door opened slightly. “May I come in?”

“Jaskier!” You exclaimed, trying to keep your voice down. You practically jumped from your bed, rushing towards him.

“Shh, quiet now,” Jaskier uttered out.

“How did you get in?” You wondered.

“Turned on my charm a little and sneaked in through the kitchen entrance.”

You chuckled but made a mental note of asking Hilda, the kitchen maid, if letting strangers into the house was a common occurrence. “What are you doing here?”

“Geralt is waiting outside, down by the water well,” he whispered. “Meet him there in a few minutes. Let me leave first.”

“Wait, what?”

“Shh, just go there,” Jaskier flinched when he heard steps coming from above him. Someone was still awake in this house. “Gotta go now. Oh and Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“I’m really sorry. I wish you stayed around longer.”

You smiled slightly at his heart-warming words. In the next moment however, he was gone. After a few more moments, you slipped out of the room, sneaking downstairs and out into the garden. Your knees felt so weak, you were scared of tripping and falling. Excitement and confusion equally rushed through your body. You would see him again, you realized happily.

The water well was on the edge of your property, hidden by rose bushes and flowering fruit trees. You almost ran towards it, scared someone would look out the window and see you outside. When you reached it, no one was to be seen.

„Y/N,“ Geralt appeared from behind one of the apple trees.

Smiling widely, you hugged him. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled when you pulled back. “I was just happy to see you.” Then you reached into the pockets of your dress, remembering that this was probably the reason he came here. „I brought you the coin.” You still owed him the second part of the payment.

Geralt smiled back at you, closing your fingers around the coin with his hand. “It’s not why I’m here. Keep it.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Then why are you here?”

Geralt didn’t meet your eyes. He bowed his head, seeming unusually … shy. A premonition came over. No, you quickly chased the thought away. No, this wasn’t the reason.

“I …,” he began. “The past days … ah, fuck!” 

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a burden on you,” a sigh left your lips. “You were an amazing teacher though.”

He shook his head. “No, no. I don’t know how to put it.”

“Oh.” You made a step back, eyes fixated on the ground.

“Y/N …,” he whispered and suddenly you felt his fingers under your chin. He lifted it, carefully making you look at him. He was close now. So close you were able to smell the leather from his clothes. Your breath trembled, anticipating his next move. Was this really happening?

It was.

When your lips touched, it was nothing more than a faint brush. Yet it caused fireworks going off inside you and you held on to his jacket, scared that your legs would give away. Then he kissed you again. Harder this time, with more force, moving his lips against yours as he grabbed you by your waist.

“I still don’t understand.” You were out of breath when he pulled away. “This is only a job for you…”

Geralt chuckled. “It’s not – and I think you know that,” his voice had a softness to it, you never heard before. “It stopped being a job on the first evening.”

You blinked. Why would Geralt of Rivia fall for a girl like you? It didn’t make sense for you.

“Am I wrong to assume you don’t feel the same?” He asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

“You’re not wrong.” Of course, he wasn’t wrong. You had pushed your feelings aside, being convinced that someone like him wouldn’t like someone as spoilt as you.

“You think too badly of yourself.”

Your eyes widened. “Did I say that out loud?”

Geralt smiled softly before leaning in for another kiss.

“What are we gonna do?” You whispered afterwards.

He sighed. “I don’t know yet but we’ll figure it out.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Ten days ago you were so bored with your life, you hired a damn Witcher for some excitement – and now, an adventure bigger than you ever imagined awaited you. Who would have thought your lives would change so quickly?

***

My Masterlist

Tag List: @just-antiyou , @sarah-midnight , @aspiring-ginger , @seb-owns-these-tatas​ , @spacewitchqueen​ , @inked-poet​ , @marvel-ousnesss​ , @seanh-boredom​ , @grumgoblin​

Wiping your blade before resheathing it, you watched as Geralt examined the room, poking through various items that lined the shelves. Rolling your eyes in exasperation, you turned your attention to yourself, tugging at your armour to put it back in order from where it had shifted when you were thrown against the wall. You rolled your shoulders in an attempt to release the tension that had gathered in them from the fight and the weight of the leather you wore.

Your attention was drawn back to your partner at the sound of coughing. As he had opened a small box, a cloud of dust rose from it and set him coughing, staggering away from the item as he waved his hand in front of his face to clear the air. The corners of your lips twitched up as you watched him, half in amusement, half in exasperation. “See Geralt, this is why we don’t go touching things in the evil monster’s lair. We get evil monster dust in our faces.”

As he bent at the waist continuing to cough, a frown came over your face. Pushing yourself off of the wall where you were leaning, you approached. “Are you okay, love? Why don’t you go outside and see if the fresh air helps, it’s so musty in here.”

Frowning at the room, you almost missed the sudden movement behind you, spinning to the side just in time to miss the swing Geralt took at you, almost tripping over your feet as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you.

“Geralt?” You tried, concerned at the blank look on his face. He didn’t respond, continuing to stalk towards as you backed towards the wall, glancing at the door behind him. “Love? Please, talk to me. What’s happened? Are you okay?”

Again receiving no response, you feinted to the left before darting to the right as the man in front of you fell for your movements, ducking underneath the arm that came out to grab you as you made your way towards the door. You burst through the opening, flinging the door shut behind you in an attempt to slow Geralt down, sprinting for the trees in an attempt to find cover. You heard the door shatter against the wall behind you, lumbering footsteps quickly catching up to you.

You dropped to the ground, rolling out of the way of the blade that hissed through the air above you. Had you still been standing, the sword would have gone straight through your ribs. You regained your feet, unsheathing your own sword as you backed away, locking eyes with the man in front of you.

Geralt’s posture was tense, coiled like a spring, ready to pounce in any direction. His face was blank, but his eyes. His eyes were an eerie dark green, the colour stark against the whites of his eyes, pupils constricted to pinpricks. There was no recognition in his expression, a blank slate that frightened you, sent terror through you to your core. There must have been a curse in that box. He’s not himself.

As he approached you, sword held loose in his hand, you continued backing away. You couldn’t fight him, you could hold your own but you were sure he’d eventually overcome you, but you didn’t want to hurt him either. Suddenly, he rushed forward, sword raised over his head as he came towards you. You leapt to the side, the sound of steel on steel ringing through the clearing as you knocked his blade aside, turning to keep the man in front of you as he swung again, the blow coming from the side this time.

You stepped into his space, shortening the swing as you caught his blade on yours, frozen as you searched his face for any sign that the man you loved was in there. “Geralt, love, please come back to me. This isn’t you! You need to fight the spell!”

With a growl, he pulled his sword back only to thrust at your chest, your sword circling to come from above, forcing his blow down and to the side as it missed you. You allowed your body to follow your sword, pivoting on your heel as Geralt’s momentum brought him past you, slamming a kick into his side as he did, forcing him to stumble and lose his momentum as you finished turning, dashing towards the forest.

Reaching the treeline, you sheathed your sword and jumped, grabbing a branch as high as you could, anchoring your foot on a lower branch as you scrambled higher. You felt a hand on your ankle, looking down, you could see Geralt reaching for you, sword left hanging by his side. Tensing, you lifted your other foot from the branch, arms shaking as they held your weight, before bringing your foot down on Geralt’s face, feeling a crack as his nose broke under your blow. With a howl he released you, letting you scramble higher into the tree, safely out of reaching distance. 

As he looked up, you could see the blood running down your lover’s chin, staining his teeth red as an animalistic sneer came over his face. His lips pulled back as a low growl rumbled out of his chest. He stalked back and forth beneath the tree, staring at you the whole time. You crooned at him, hoping the distance would allow you to talk to him, to hopefully break whatever spell he was caught in. 

“Geralt, baby, come back to me.” He growled at your voice, scowl deepening as he continued pacing. “It’s me, darling, you need to fight this. Come back to me, I love you.”

Your last sentence drew a roar from his chest, the man leaping as high as he could, hands brushing at your ankles. You squeaked and lost your balance as you tried to avoid him, falling from the branch with your motion. You gasped as you hit a branch on your way down, frantically twisting as you grabbed at whatever you could reach, fingernails and skin ripping against the harsh bark of the tree. You hit the ground and rolled, Geralt’s sword biting into the dirt where your head had been.

Coming to your feet, you blinked frantically, blood coming from a cut on your head running into your eyes and obscuring your vision as bruises bloomed across your back. Relying on your senses alone, you ducked as you heard the whistling of a sword, felt the wind as the blade passed above your folded body. Drawing your sword, you met the next blow, shock travelling from your hands all the way up into your shoulders. You almost missed as Geralt struck again, managing to divert his blade to the side, the edge slicing into your left arm as it passed. Warm blood ran down your hand, making your fingers slip where they held the hilt of your sword.

Releasing your grip with your left hand, you desperately tried to keep up with the fast pace of the blows coming from the Witcher, arms starting to shake as you tried to keep the man you loved from killing you. You were too breathless to talk, hoping only to survive this encounter long enough that the spell would wear off. 

Too late, you realized Geralt had backed you to the treeline. Turning desperately, you cried out as you tripped over a root, stumbling to catch yourself as you teetered, ankle turning over as you stepped, pain flaring as your leg threatened to give. This distraction cost you, Geralt getting in close as he struck at you, the blow causing you to lose your grip on your sword as it went flying. You limped backwards, ducking as you tried to avoid his blows, receiving a cut on your thigh as a reward. 

You tried one last time. “Geralt, please, listen to me. This isn’t you, I am not your enemy! You need to come back to, Geralt, just listen to my voice!”

Hope flared in your chest as he faltered, frustration appearing on his face as gold glinted in his eyes. You hesitantly took a step towards him. “Geralt?” you queried tentatively.

His face morphed back into an expression of rage, the light dying in his eyes as your own hope died in your chest. A snarl forced its way from between his lips as he drew his sword back and thrust, a gasp pulled from your lips at the feeling of the cold blade slithering into your skin, the feeling of the leather pulling away from your skin as the sword emerged from your back. 

A pained howl tore itself from your lips as you stepped backwards, feeling the sword pulling itself from your body as warm blood began pouring down your side. The exhaustion and shock overwhelmed you, the world going blurry as you collapsed to your knees. The last thing you remember was gold flooding Geralt’s eyes as you heard him call your name before the world went dark.

**~*~*~*~**

“Please no, not her, if there is anyone out there, I beg of you, take me instead, just let her live. Y/N, please wake up. I can’t- please- take me instead, she doesn’t deserve this, please just let her live.” 

The man who held you was shaking as he ranted at the air, desperate that you might live. Trembling, you brought your hand up to cover the one that was pressed against your side, feeling your body pressed against an unyielding wall of muscle. As he felt your hand against his, Geralt went stiff, slowly drawing back from where he had pressed his face into your hair so that he could look at you. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, scrunching when your movement brought a wave of pain over you.

You opened your eyes to see Geralt staring down at you with his golden, golden, eyes staring back at you, a heartbroken expression on his face. Relief swept through your body, the spell was gone. He leaned down to rest his forehead against yours, the arm supporting you against his chest tightening as he let himself break, tears falling against your skin as he wept.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered brokenly, “You were so pale and weren’t moving, I thought I had killed you.”

“Hey now,” you tried weakly. “I think I did a fairly good job at holding out, you just cheated because you’re tall.”

A wet laugh broke from his lips, closely followed by a sob. “I am so sorry, Y/N. I’ll drop you at a healer and be on-”

“Ah,” you pressed a finger against his lips, your strength coming back slowly. He looked at you in confusion, disbelief on his face. “None of that, love, we’re not getting started on this ‘I’m a monster, how can you live with me after what I’ve done’ bullshit. It could have been either of us, and you wouldn’t let me talk this way if I had been the one cursed, so you don’t get to.”

You struggled to sit up, hissing as your movements pulled on your wound. Geralt helped you sit up, arranging you so that you were draped over his lap as he focused on bandaging your wounds, refusing to look you in the face. Holding the bandage for him with one hand, you reached up to gently touch his face with the other, pulling his chin up to look at you as his movements stilled. You smiled softly before leaning forward slightly to brush a kiss against his lips.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Dubiously, he stared at you. “You cut out the self-pitying crap and I will stay in bed for one week and be careful for the next two. But only if you stay with me and don’t spend the next year beating yourself up for something that was totally out of your control.

As he opened his mouth to protest you clamped your hand over it, effectively cutting off his words. “If you don’t agree to my deal I swear to Melitele I will be out of bed the day after you leave and will chase you down unless it kills me. And if it does I’ll tell Jaskier what happened and send him after you. And then I’ll come after you and haunt your ass so you’re really sorry.”

As you finished your rant, you flicked your finger against Geralt’s nose, causing him to startle and glare at you, slowly dissolving into laughter at your attempt to look intimidating. Finally calming, he continued working on your bandages, chuckling as you squirmed against him, hissing whenever you would agitate your injuries.

“Two weeks?” his low voice asked softly, not looking at you as his hands worked. You stilled, staring up at him suspiciously. Slowly, you nodded.

“One and a half. And I’ll take it easy.” Smiling, he looked up at you, mirth present in his golden eyes as he stared down at you. “You asshole! I should have started with four days! You know I hate staying still!”

He chuckled as he brought his other hand up to press you against his chest. Nosing at your hair, he inhaled your scent as his body relaxed, the adrenaline of the fight slowly leaving the both of you. You nestled into him, enjoying the warmth from his body. Gently, Geralt gathered you into his arms, standing and making his way to where the two of you had left your horses.

“I love you,” he murmured, arms tightening around you briefly. “And I am sorry.”

“I know,” you looked up at him, freeing one of your hands to reach up and cup his jaw. He hummed at your actions, leaning into your touch like a cat. “And I forgive you, there was never any question about it.”

He rubbed his jaw against your palm, eyes closed as he paused next to Roach. Carefully, he set you in the saddle before swinging himself up behind you, pulling you back against his chest. The feeling of his slow heartbeat against your back along with the gentle cadence of the horse quickly lulled you to sleep as you relaxed in the comfort of your lover’s arms.

**~*~*~*~**

Add yourself to my taglist!

Having left Roach at the house that he shared with you, Geralt was forced to limp back, slowly but surely covering ground to safety. He felt relieved that you wouldn’t be home to see him like this, you had gone to visit your sister for two weeks and wouldn’t be back for another two days. He would be able to sleep the elixir out of his system, you wouldn’t see him for the monster that he was.

As injured as he was, Geralt was still aware of his surroundings, so when he heard footsteps coming up the road behind him, he tried to move quickly into the trees to let whoever was travelling pass him. He didn’t quite make it into the forest before the traveller caught a flash of his white hair in the treeline.

“Geralt?”

He closed his eyes in frustration, conflicting emotions raging through him. Happiness at the thought that he would get to see you, guilt that you had to see him like this, fear that you would leave him. An overwhelming feeling of pain and despair made him heavy, forcing him to pause in the treeline, keeping his back to you.

“Geralt, is that you?” He could hear the footsteps getting closer. “Geralt, what’s wrong? Look at me please.”

He could hear the worry in your voice, striking at the center of his chest like he’d been stabbed. You wouldn’t be worried about him once you saw who he truly was.

Don't get too close

It's dark inside

“Geralt please, you’re scaring me. Are you injured? What happened?” A note of panic was working its way through your voice, shaking as he refused to answer you, refused to turn around.

He couldn’t show you, he couldn’t turn around and let you see what he was. His shoulders tensed, curling in, guarding against the rejection that was sure to follow. He could feel you getting closer, hear you approaching him, your heart rate accelerated with worry.

I wanna hide the truth

I want to shelter you,

but with the beast inside

there’s nowhere we can hide.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, tugging at him to turn around. Never able to resist you, he slowly turned so that he was facing you, keeping his eyes closed. He felt fingers touching his face, stroking his cheek, and his eyes fluttered, showing slits of black. He heard a gasp and a quick backstep as you drew back from him. She fears me, she will leave me, I was never good enough for her, now she knows who I truly am, she has seen the monster, the demon, that hides inside me. He could sense your presence getting farther from him, retreating out of fear of him.

His mind whirled, shoulders hunching in on himself, body reeling from the feeling of despair and the blood loss. You were leaving, you were scared of him. You, who had promised you loved him, had lied to him. He didn’t blame you, he would also despise the monster that his human face hid.

As he spiralled slowly into despair, he felt a slight body slip under his arm, cloth pressed to his wound. He opened his dark eyes, black gaze locking with your Y/E/C eyes. You looked back at him with no fear, no disgust, only worry, worry for him? How could he be deserving of your concern when he was like this?

When you feel my heat

Look into my eyes

Its where my demons hide

“Come Geralt,” you murmured. “Let’s go home. We’ll get you cleaned up and into bed.” Gently, you took his weight and started to lead him down the road. Geralt could see darkness snatching at the edges of his vision, could feel his body failing as the poison took hold. Silently, he cursed the vampire that had managed to injure him.

“Wha- are you do’in?” he slurred, unconsciously leaning into you for support. As he realized this, he tried to right himself, taking his weight off your body. You gently, but firmly, reached up and tugged him back down to lean against you. He resisted at first, before giving in as he felt the world spin and his body sway from the blood loss.

“You take care of others, Geralt, let me take care of you. Lean on me, let me share your burden, love.” You shushed his protests, still guiding the two of you towards the house that had appeared in front of you without his notice. I must be drifting. You nudged the gate open with your hip, keeping one hand on Geralt’s side and one helping him stay upright. You quickly got him inside the house and into your bathing room.

When Geralt next looked up, you were nowhere to be found. Your disappearance shot straight to his core, the panic reappearing, his heart rate accelerating. His chest rose and fell with harsh breaths, the world spinning and disappearing in front of him. The next thing he knew, you were kneeling at his side, when had he fallen?, holding him, murmuring reassurances in his ear. He weakly pushed himself off of you, “Your dress,” he mumbled, seeing the bloodstains that were slowly appearing on your skirt from where he rested.

“Don’t worry about my dress,” you helped lift him onto the chair next to the tub, reaching for the ties of his armour, your deft fingers making quick work of the laces before dropping the various pieces onto the floor. Having removed his armour, you gently started working on his shirt, taking care to avoid agitating the sword cut in his side. Kneeling between his legs, you began to untie his breeches with the intention of getting him into the bath. He could see the steam rising from the tub, when had you filled it, the gentle curls disappearing into the air.

He returned his gaze to stare at you in wonder, in awe at the softness that seeped out of you, shocked at the gentleness that you used with him as you removed his clothes. You weren’t afraid of him, you didn’t fear his black gaze or his pale skin, you didn’t run from him at the sight of the monster within. Geralt couldn’t reconcile your gentle treatment with what he thought he deserved from you, with how other people treated him.

Your eyes they shine so bright

I want to save that light

I can’t escape this now

Unless you show me how

He caught your hand, pausing you in your efforts to disrobe him. “Why, mouse? Why don’t you fear me?” He swallowed harshly before continuing. “I could hurt you.”

Rather than backing away as he expected, you took his hand between both of yours, looking up at him from where you were kneeling on the floor in front of him with a soft gaze. Your lips curved into a soft smile, “You could never hurt me.”

Don’t wanna let you down

But I am hell bound

No, this is all for you

Don't wanna hide the truth

He shook his head, pulling his hand from yours. “I’m dangerous, a monster. You should despise me.” You stood and moved closer, gently pulling him down to rest against you, your embrace grounding him. He asked quietly, voice breaking, “How can you still love me after seeing me like this?”

“I will never stop loving you, Geralt of Rivia.” you responded quietly. When he started to speak again, you shushed him, dropping your head to rest your face in his hair. “Up,” you tugged at him. “Let’s get you in the bath and in bed. You will feel better tomorrow, and we can continue this conversation then.”

You half carried him over to the tub, helping him into the hot water, smiling at his groan of pleasure. You reached for a washcloth and soap beside you. Gently tapping his shoulder, you signalled for him to wet his hair. He obliged, and you added soap, gently massaging his scalp. As you continued with your ministrations, rinsing his air and starting to work on cleaning his face and chest, Geralt could feel himself falling towards unconsciousness, black eyes fluttering shut.

He drifted, dreaming of gentle hands, gentle words. Geralt. He smiled, relaxing further into the dark embrace. Geralt! He tried turning his head to look for who was calling him, frowning when he found he couldn’t move. GERALT! A sharp pain flared in his side, causing his eyes to fly open.

“Geralt!” You were leaning over him, terror filling your face. He blinked slowly, trying to identify where the threat that had you so terrified was. He felt hot, dizzy. Groaning, he tried to lift himself to his feet, stopping when he felt your hand against his chest. “What hurt you?” you frantically asked. “You wouldn’t wake up, you weren’t responding. Your side is inflamed. What were you hunting?”

“The sword… was poisoned… He managed to catch me…” Geralt managed to get out, before he felt his head loll to the side. “I’m sorry, little mouse. Please forgive me.” He could hear you curse under your breath, felt your presence disappear down the hall. He felt like he should be concerned, could smell your fear and desperation in the air, but couldn’t find the energy to muster the feeling.

Your footsteps grew louder before you appeared by his side again, pulling on his arm to help him step out of the tub and out of the room.

**~*~*~*~**

Panicked, you dragged Geralt down the hallway, not bothering with the water dripping from his naked body. You cursed every time he faltered, pressing closer to him and urging him along. You quickly reached your bedroom, guiding him to the bed in the middle of the room before helping him lay down. You flinched at his pained moan, hands fluttering frantically above him.

After getting him settled, you grabbed for something on the table beside the bed, uncorking a vial filled with the elixir Geralt used against poisons. You went to lift his head, but Geralt shook you off, eyes squeezing shut, growing impossibly paler. You tried a second time, but he again turned his head, refusing to take the potion. Forcing his mouth open, you poured the liquid into his mouth before clamping your fingers over his mouth and nose, trying to doge as his hands began to flail. Desperately, you continued to block his airways, forcing him to swallow, only jerking back when one of his hands clipped your face after seeing the reflexive motion in his throat. You raised a hand to where the blow had landed, blood dripping from your lip.

Ignoring the blood, you picked up a salve, opening the jar and spreading it onto Geralt’s wound before picking up a needle and thread, neatly and efficiently stitching the wound shut. You bandaged it and pulled the blanket up over your injured lover, who had finally drifted off into a restless sleep. You used an extra cloth to wipe the blood from your face, wincing as it pulled at the torn skin.

You used the inside of your wrist to test Geralt’s temperature, and feeling it to be hot, went to fetch a bucket of cold water and cloths for the fever. Returning, you wet a piece of fabric and placed it on Geralt’s forehead, brushing his hair out of his face. You settled yourself in the chair next to the bed and kept watch, soothing the man when he tossed and cried out from the fever, changing bandages when the blood seeping out of the wound began to stain them, changing the cloth on his head when he got too hot.

You sighed, feeling the tears gathering in your eyes at the sight of your lover in pain. It wasn’t fair, he gave so much of himself but got so little in return. You were desperate to change this, to give him the love that he deserved. You prepared yourself for a long night, determined to care for this man, determined to get him through his fever and relieve him of his pain.

**~*~*~*~**

Pain, burning, fever. Geralt writhed, crying out for Y/N. I’m sorry, he cried, I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. Forgive me, please.

He could feel cool hands against his skin, water dripping down his face. He could hear your soft voice in the distance, soothing him, before being pulled back under, fighting as hard as he could to reach you.

Don’t go, I need you, I love you. I’ll try harder, do better, just don’t leave me. They always leave.

He fell into the darkness, succumbing to the pain in his side and the burning of the fever ravaging his body.

**~*~*~*~**

By the time that Geralt finally quieted as his fever broke, the sun was well into the sky. You had been awake the entire night fighting his temperature down, doing all that you could to see him comfortable. You slumped in your chair, exhausted but happy. After giving yourself a couple of minutes to rest, you came to your feet with a groan and approached the bed. The witcher was not as pale, some colour having come back into his cheeks after the fever broke. Picking up a second vial of the potion you had forced into him earlier, you gave him a smaller second dose to ensure the poison had left his system. That done, you checked his bandages a final time, and seeing no blood with your sutures still intact, you fell back into the chair, gripping his hand as you allowed sleep to finally overtake you.

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt groaned and tried to shift in the bed, before becoming aware of something heavy holding his arm down. He opened his eyes and immediately shut them against the light. Taking a minute to recover, he cracked his eyelids to observe a familiar ceiling above him. He was lying in the bed that he shared with you, back home in your house. Closing his eyes, he took stock of how he felt. His head was pounding, body weak, side sore from the sword injury. He couldn’t remember much of what happened after he had slain the vampire. He could see flashes, could see the terror in your face as you leaned over him, remembered the pain in his side, remembered not being able to breathe properly.

Opening his eyes again, he tried to turn his head to look towards where his arm was trapped. With great effort, he was able to shift enough to see you sitting in a chair, slumped over onto the bed, his hand held between both of yours. Lifting his other hand, he hissed as pain flared in his side. Carefully, he reached over and brushed the hair out of your face before freezing at the sight that met him.

A bruise in the shape of a handprint decorated the side of your face, accompanied by a split lip with dried blood still on the wound. Flashes of memories flew past his eyes, Y/N leaning over him, a vial in her hand, trying to get away, a bitter liquid poured down his throat, something covering his mouth, not being able to breath, trying to fight what held him down. He could see the shock in her eyes as her hand flew to her mouth, touching the blood that was on her face, the blood that he spilt.

He snatched his hand away as if burned. The movement jostled you, causing you to blearily blink your eyes before you came to awareness with a start. You reached for him, an expression of hurt flitting over your face when he flinched away from you.

“Geralt?” you asked, as you clasped your hands in your lap. Your face was expressionless as you watched him, eyes locked onto his gaze.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the bruise on your face, the bruise that he gave you, he hurt you, oh gods, he was a monster, you needed to get away from him.

“Geralt!” a hand gripped his, not letting go even as he tried to pull away. “Talk to me,” you breathed as you shifted yourself onto the bed. Your hand came up to cup his face, forcing him to look at you.

Reluctantly, he brought his gaze up to yours, his now golden eyes locking with yours. “There you are,” you murmured. “I missed you.”

“I hurt you,” Geralt ignored the feelings your admission brought. Understanding filled your face, and a small smile came to your lips. You shook your head, “This is nothing,” you assured him. You shifted closer, and when he made no move to stop you, you crawled the rest of the way up the bed to settle next to him, leaning against the headboard. You reached over to pick up his hand, lacing your fingers with his as you set it in your lap. Distantly, he recognized that you were now wearing a different dress than earlier. I need to buy her a new one.

You laughed, crumpling in on yourself. At Geralt’s confused stare, you explained, “You don’t need to buy me a new dress, darling. That one was old and ready to be thrown out.”

“I said that out loud?” “Yes, my dear, you did. You must still be out of it if you are speaking your thoughts freely.”

You shifted, pulling Geralt down to lie on the bed next to you. You made no comment when he shifted away from you, only turning on your side to regard him when he hissed as his movements put pressure on his side. He continued to stare up at the ceiling, ignoring the feeling of your gaze on him.

You reached out, running your hand up and down his arm. “You did not hurt me, Geralt. You could never hurt me. I love you.”

He met your eyes, gaze broken. “But I did,” he whispered. His hand reached up, hovering over the bruise on your cheek. “I hit you. I’m a monster. I don’t understand, how can you still love me?”

Lifting your head from where you had pillowed it on your arm you glared at him. “You are not a monster, Geralt of Rivia.” you said fiercely, “I will not stand for this kind of talk. You are more than deserving of my love, of anyone’s love. What you do for me, for the world, the pain and burden that you take upon yourself, you deserve so much more than what I can give you. Besides, I was holding you down and preventing you from breathing, you reacted. You would never intentionally hit me, would never intentionally hurt me. You have too pure of a soul for that.”

Shocked, he stared at you. “That is truly what you think?”

You nodded your head. “Of course. You risk your life saving others, with little to no thanks.” You smiled gently, “You are my world, my love, my heart. No one else appreciates you, so I make it my goal to appreciate you even more to make up for it.”

He closed his eyes, reaching his arm out towards you. You obliged, shifting over and tucking yourself into his uninjured side, laying your head on his chest. “I try to think of a way to thank you for what you do for this world, but I can never think of anything that will truly make up for what you give.”

“I don’t deserve thanks, this is what I was designed for, made for.” He looked back up at the roof.

You sat up suddenly, turning to stare hard at him. “Fuck that!” He jumped, surprised at your ferocity. “You are the purest heart I have ever come across. You never complain, you take all of the abuse that is thrown at you. You’re a fucking idiot if you think that way! You deserve all of the thanks I can give you.” You blinked back tears. “It tears at my heart that you think you are unworthy of my love. Please Geralt, can’t you see what I see? You are the love of my life, the most loving man I have ever met. Accept my thanks, please.”

“Just having you in my arms is enough thanks for me, little mouse.” He reached up and tugged you back down against his chest, tucking your head back under his chin, gripping you a little tighter in response to your fierce devotion.

They say it's what you make it

Say it's up to fate

It's woven in my soul

You nestled further into his arms. “I will teach you to love yourself just as much as you love me,” you murmured against his chest.

Geralt dropped a kiss on the top of your head, pulling you as close as he could. “I will try, little mouse, I will try for you.”

Sighing, you relaxed against him, the stress of last night and your outburst finally catching up to you. Feeling your body droop and watching your eyes close, Geralt buried his nose in your hair. “Sleep, my heart. Thank you for staying. Thank you for loving me.”

Together, the two of you slowly drifted, content in each other's company, happy with holding each other as you slept.

**~*~*~*~**

Add yourself to my taglist

Jaskier couldn’t quite hide his smile when he approached the two of you, bowls of oatmeal in his hands. He placed them on the ground in front of you, Ciri lunging for one as you stood and made your way over. She ate quickly, headbutting the bard as a silent ask for more. You ate more slowly, continuing to ignore Geralt as he watched you from across the clearing. Once finished, you caught Ciri again, cleaning the extra food off of her before releasing her to go explore. You watched her until she disappeared into the trees with Yennefer, off on another magic lesson. You made your way over to Jaskier, sprawling out on the ground next to him. You lay there, eyes half-lidded as you watched him play. You could see Geralt out of the corner of your eyes, saw him approach, a hesitant look on his face. You closed your eyes again, not wanting to have to interact with him.

“Geralt!” You winced when Jaskier’s clear voice rang out through the clearing. “Come, sit! Join us on this lovely afternoon.”

You could almost sense his hesitation, before he moved toward the two of you, sitting with his back against the log Jaskier was on. You didn’t move, letting Jaskier’s music soothe you into a daze, the sun warm against your fur. You let yourself drift, only coming back to yourself when you realized Jaskier had stopped playing. You opened your eyes to see him stand, panic flashing through you at the thought of being left alone with Geralt, to have him reject you once more.

“Well, Yen said something about needing a victim to help Ciri with her spells, so I’m just going to go join them. Enjoy the quiet while you can.” With that, Jaskier turned and sauntered out of the clearing, humming a tune as he went. You forced yourself to relax, loosening the muscles that had tensed at Jaskier’s departure. Sitting, you busied yourself with your paws, cleaning the dirt that had gathered between your toes. You stilled as a large hand entered your vision, grasping the foot you were working on.

“Let me,” Geralt’s voice was soft, his hands gentle as he picked at the leaves that were tangled in your fur. You stayed motionless as he worked, allowing him to lift your other paw when he finished with the first. Setting your paw on the ground, he gently placed a finger under your muzzle, lifting your head so that you were looking at him. You could see an apology in his eyes, remorse clear on his face. You sighed, pushing your nose into his palm, bringing a sad smile to his face before it dropped off again.

“Can I hold you?” At your nod, he gently wrapped his hands around your middle, lifting you into his arms as he sat back on the log. He kept you against his chest, face pressed into your head as he exhaled, a shaky breath that warmed your fur. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You whimpered, pushing back against him as you closed your eyes. You knew he hadn’t intentionally tried to hurt you, but he did, and he had to know that. Sighing again, you dug deep, submerging yourself into the pool of magic as you let yourself shift. You found yourself sitting on Geralt’s lap, your back to his chest as his arms tightened around your waist. A small smile came to his face at the sight of you in your human form and he pressed a kiss against the back of your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder, his presence warm on your back. You let yourself relax against him, relishing in the feel of him against your skin.

You didn’t rest long though, pushing away from the Witcher to stand a little bit away, your back to him as you hugged yourself. You heard Geralt stand and take a step towards you, freezing when you spun around to pin him with a glare. “You can’t do that, Geralt, it’s not fair!”

He stared at you, a guilty look on his face. His hands came up as if to reach for you before he fisted them as he crossed his arms across his chest. “I know, I’m sorry, I really am.”

“You can’t just keep saying you’re sorry, you really hurt me. Every time I try and get close to you, you push me away. I feel like you don’t want me around.” He flinched at your harsh tone, face falling as what you said registered.

“I do want you around, truly. I’m trying Y/N. I want to have a relationship with you, I just...I don’t know how.” His voice was pleading, desperate to make you understand. He took another step towards you, you retreating in response. Anger flared through you, frustrated that he wasn’t understanding.

“Then talk to me, Geralt! We need to be able to communicate. You can’t just run away whenever I ask a hard question. You need to be an adult and actually talk to me.” You were panting, your outbreak draining your energy.

“I know, I will try, I promise. I want to learn, I just need you to be patient with me.”

“Geralt…” You sighed, turning away again. You thought back to Yennefer’s words, Don’t give up on him. Your shoulders drooped, posture slumping as the fight drained out of you. 

His voice was tentative, fear lacing his tone. “Y/N?”

You spoke tearfully, soft voice trembling, threatening to break. “Just… hold me, please.”

He was quick to step towards you, spinning you towards him as he pulled you against his chest. You pressed your face against his tunic, your tears staining the fabric as you wept silently. Geralt’s hand came up to run through your hair, his other hand pressed between your shoulder blades. Your own hands came up to fist in his shirt, clinging to him as you cried. He shushed you, gently rocking back and forth. 

You drew back and looked up at him. “I just want to go to bed.”

He nodded, a hand coming up to wipe a tear from your cheek before leading you back to the tent. Once you were changed and settled, Geralt climbed into the bed behind you, pulling you against his chest. You let yourself drift, the heaviness of sleep overcoming you as warmth enveloped you.

**~*~*~*~**

You tried to give Geralt another chance, you really did. Yennefer had said that he would come around, and after the talk you two had, he was better for a while. He was attentive to you, making sure that he gave you attention throughout the day. He would brush a hand down your arm whenever he passed you, drop a kiss on your hair. You were happy, basking in the glow of this little family you were slowly being welcomed into. 

You noticed Geralt was still avoiding your questions, though. You wanted to get to know him better, but he would dodge your questions, suddenly remembering something he absolutely needed to do then. As much as he was giving you physical affection, he was still emotionally distant from you. 

You spent most of your time basking in the sun, almost fully recovered from your ordeal. Quite often Ciri would join you. As you were mostly healed, you started teaching her your trade. You would explore the forest, teaching her the names of various plants and herbs as well as what they would be used for in healing. She took to it like a moth to a flame, quickly able to recall various healing qualities when asked. Maybe when you passed a town you could pick up some supplies and teach her how to make potions. 

You had noticed that Geralt and Yennefer would often disappear during the day. You had gone into the tent a few days earlier to see the two of them huddled together over a map. You had asked Jaskier about it later that day.

“Oh, they’re still worried about the sorcerer. He got away from us when we went in to grab you. They need to come up with a way to contain him when we finally find him again, and we’re waiting for him to resurface so that we can go after him.”

You had felt a sharp flare of panic pierce through your chest, your breath accelerating at the thought of your captor still being out there. You hadn’t realized he had gotten away, hadn’t even thought to ask. Jaskier stared at you, worry clear in his gaze. You managed a tight smile for him, face pale. “I’m okay, I just...I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You’re sure?” he made to stand, but you shook your head to stop him. 

“Yes, Jask, thank you. I just need some time alone.” He still looked unsure, but nodded, prompting you to head towards the trees. You wandered below the branches, continuing to take measured breaths as you forced yourself to stay calm. You were healed, you were fine. Your pack would never let anything happen to you, Geralt would never let anything happen to you. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize there was anyone else in the forest until you heard voices. You froze, not wanting to alert the two to your presence.

“We need to find Astarion, Geralt, there aren’t many more days left in the spell I cast. He’ll have his magic back soon, and we need to have him contained before that.” Yennefer’s voice was tense, urgency clear in her tone. 

“We’ve been tracking him for months, Yen, why is now any different?” Geralt sounded disinterested, mumbling in response to the mage’s points.

“Because of Y/N! Did you not see his research? He’s going to want her back and he’ll do anything to get her. You can’t tell me you’re not worried about her.” The disbelief was clear in the woman’s voice. You felt like you had been doused in ice water, the thought that you might end up back in that cell causing your breathing to accelerate once more. 

“She’ll be fine so long as she sticks around here, she just can’t go running off into the woods like she did last time.” The disinterest in his voice stung, your heart clenching at his words.

“And who do you think caused that, hm? If a certain someone would just admit their bond, then she wouldn’t have gone running off. You’re the one pushing her away.” Sarcasm was clear in the words, you could almost picture the accompanying eye roll, had you not been full of terror.

“She’s an adult, she can make her own decisions. It’s not like I forced her into the forest.” Geralt’s tone was tense, the words said as if through gritted teeth.

“Stop being an idiot, Geralt!” Yennefer’s was starting to sound annoyed, her tone harsh as she reprimanded the Witcher. “You have to accept this relationship, otherwise it will harm you both.”

“There is no bond to accept, Yen, you’re wrong. Yes, I care about Y/N, but that’s it, there’s nothing else there.” You froze at the mention of you, struggling to understand what Geralt was talking about.

“There is, Geralt! Why are you being so stubborn? You’re just going to hurt her!” You could almost see the two of them. You could picture Yennefer, standing with one hand on her hip while she gestured with the other. Geralt would have his arms crossed a scowl on his face. “Mating bonds are sacred, you need to honour it.”

“There’s no fucking mating bond, Yen! She’s just someone I met, it's a coincidence that she’s even a shapeshifter! Just stop harassing me…” His voice seemed to fade into the background as his words registered. She’s just someone I met. You turned, blindly racing away as tears blurred your vision, spilling hot down your cheeks. You didn’t hear the conversation behind, the low fuck from the Witcher followed by a harsh stay here.

You ran until you couldn’t anymore, doubling over as sobs tore their way out of your chest, your breathing harsh as you gasped for air. All you could hear were those words repeated over and over; just someone I met, just someone I met, just someone I met. You were a fool, thinking that there might have been something there. Everyone must have been laughing at you this last week, watching as you pined for Geralt, made an absolute idiot out of yourself. You jumped when you felt a hand on your arm, not having heard anyone approaching. You looked up to see Yennefer, concern clear in her violet eyes.

“Oh Y/N,” she murmured, pulling you against her in an embrace. Her hand came up to cup the back of your head, pressing your face against her shoulder as you clung to her, tears staining the cloth of her dress. You were so tired of this, you had cried more in the last few weeks than you had in years. It was an emotional rollercoaster, trying to keep up with Geralt. One minute he was kind and caring and the next it was like you didn’t exist. You just couldn’t keep up.

“I- I thought he- he cared for-for me.” You were in shambles, heart shattered to pieces at the realization that the man you deeply cared for, maybe even loved, didn’t return even the vaguest of feelings your way. “I’m a fool, I can’t believe I let myself think there was something there.”

“There is, I promise you, Y/N.” Yennefer pulled back to look at you, sympathy in her eyes. “Geralt is just being an absolute idiot. The mating bond just makes this even worse for you, and he’s the fool for not being able to see the absolutely wonderful partner you would make.”

“Ma- mating bond? Geralt said something about it being a soul bond, but I don’t understand. Yennefer, why does it hurt so much?” You had calmed slightly, the human touch having helped to soothe you, though tears still ran down your cheeks. The mage guided you to a large tree, supporting you as the two of you slid down to sit on the ground, backs against the trunk.

“Yen, please. You’re a part of our pack now, everyone calls me that.” You managed a small smile at that before it faded, another sob forcing its way out of your throat. Yennefer took your hands in hers, a serious look on her face as she met your gaze.

“A mating bond is one of the most sacred connections our people can make. Our gods gifted them to us after our kind was slaughtered by humans out of some misconception that we were dangerous. One half of a couple was struck down, and the other begged the gods to save them. They did, forming a soul bond between the two of them to be able to.” Your gasps had turned to hiccups, as intent as you were listening to the mage.

“What does it do?” you whispered, eyes locked on to the violet gaze across from you.

“It changes depending on the pairing, but there are a few basic qualities that span every mating bond. You are able to feel each other’s emotions, especially the strong ones. If the other is in danger or in pain, you will know. When there is an incredibly strong bond present, you can sometimes speak to each other in your minds. Each pair is different, but they are all destined by the gods to be made, regardless of who you are.” She glanced back in the direction of the campsite, hesitation clear on her face. “I really shouldn’t be the one to tell you this, but obviously he won’t, and it’s just hurting the two of you because of it.”

You stared at her, confusion and a little bit of fear building inside of you. Had they formed a bond these last few days? Is that why Geralt had rejected you so harshly?

“You and Geralt have formed a mating bond. He started it before he left your home the first time, and completed it while you were in captivity. That’s how we knew where you were, Geralt was able to find you through the bond.” You were stunned at Yennefer’s admission before the fear that had been festering inside of you suddenly spilt over, hot rage accompanying it. You pushed up off the ground, stalking a few meters away.

“No! I don’t want this! Why does he keep treating me like shit if we’re mates? Whenever I try to talk to him, he shuns me. What do I have to do to get rid of it?” You spun back around, seeing Yennefer stand as well, brushing her dress off as she shook her head.

“You can’t break it, it can be severed only through death or the gods. There are rumours of shapeshifters pleading with them to have their bond severed, but I don’t know that they are true.” You were panicking again, breath coming in short gasps, the world spinning as you became lightheaded. Yennefer seemed to sense this, grabbing your arm and helping you back to the ground, tucking you into her side. You curled up into her warmth, desperately trying to control your breathing. You felt Yen’s gentle hand push your hair away from your face before moving to your back, rubbing circles as you fought yourself.

“I know it seems bad right now, but I promise it gets better. Mating bonds are such a precious gift, those who have one are so lucky. If you lose your mate in death, the world is a little bit darker; you should do anything you can to keep them.” You could hear the sincerity in her voice, but you refused to acknowledge her reasoning.

“It hurts too much, I can’t take it. Please Yen, tell me what to do.” You were almost begging at this point, needing to do something to stop the pain that you were in.

“I had a mate once.” You started at that, not having expected the woman to share. “I was in love, we were thrilled when we discovered we had formed a bond. We did everything together, it was rare that you would see us apart. My world was full of laughter, full of hope.”

Quieting, you shifted so you could see her face. Yennefer had the gentlest expression you had seen from her yet, her eyes cloudy with a distant memory. “My world shattered the day my bond broke.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek as she continued. “It had been a rare moment that we were apart, I had stayed back in our community to help heal a young child while they went on patrol. It was supposed to be routine, we occasionally get information on a new shapeshifter and will send a group out to either train them or bring them back. My mate was one of the best at calming our young. It was a trap though; some humans had given us false information to lure us in.”

Her voice broke, mouth working as no words came out. She sighed, looking at you once more. “No one made it out alive. I felt when my mate died, as if we had a string connecting us and it just snapped. No more thoughts, no more emotions, I could feel nothing. There was a black hole in my heart where my bond used to be. It’s still there today, even though it’s been years. I don’t think it will ever go away. I don’t think I will ever be totally happy again. A part of me died with them.”

You could feel fresh tears running down your cheeks, prompted by the agony that ripped through her voice. “Don’t ever lose that, Y/n, promise me. You have to keep trying, because the alternative is worse than death.”

You nodded silently, at a loss for words. You had been so wary of her at first, thinking she hadn’t wanted you in her pack when in reality she was scared of getting hurt again. Surprising both of you, you leaned forwards, wrapping your arms around the other woman as you pulled her into a tight embrace. She went willingly, arms going around you as she returned the hug, pressing her face into your shoulder, breathing ragged. The two of you stayed that way for a while, content to sit in the silence of the new bond you had just created. Finally, Yennefer pulled back to look at you with a sad smile. 

“I need to leave tonight, to go to Aretuza to confer with other mages about how to contain the sorcerer.” You shivered involuntarily at the mention. Seeing this, Yennefer reached up to cup your cheek.

“Nothing will happen to you, I promise. The pack will protect you. You have nothing to fear from him any longer.” You closed your eyes, leaning into her hand as your own came up to press against hers.

“Be safe,” you finally got out, voice rough from crying. She nodded, standing as she pulled you up with her. Making a sharp gesture, a ring of light appeared in front of the two of you, showing the tent from the camp. She stepped forward, tugging you along with her. As you passed the circle your stomach jolted, sending you staggering. The mage helped you to the bed next to you, pressing a hand against your forehead as she muttered something under her breath. The nausea immediately dissipated and you looked up at her in silent thanks.

“Sleep in my bed tonight, I’m going to be leaving as soon as I say goodbye to the others.” Exhausted, you nodded, making your way over to the chest where you stored your clothes to pull out a nightgown. You quickly changed before climbing into the bed, pulling the covers over you. Yennefer finished packing her bag, stopping next to you to offer you a tight hug.

“Good luck, and be patient. I’ll be back soon.” You smiled at her, reaching out to squeeze her hand before releasing her, watching as she left the tent. You curled onto your side, the exhaustion from today’s events finally making itself known as you closed your eyes, allowing sleep to pull you under.

**~*~*~*~**

Yennefer felt a rage come over her as she watched Geralt saunter back into the clearing, looking like he hadn’t a care in the world. Striding over, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He startled, looking down at her in shock. “Yen, what-”

She cut him off, voice hissing through the air, “You are tugging that poor girl around enough, Geralt. You need to fix this, fix your relationship or you may kill her yet.”

He scoffed, “I don’t know what-”

“Now you listen here,” she jabbed him hard in the chest, hard enough to send him a step backwards as he regained his balance. “You know as well as I do that when there is a strain on a mating bond, the shapeshifters suffer. Especially when the other does nothing to fix it. Now, I am going to Aretuza to speak to Tissaia about containing this sorcerer long enough to question him about his research, and by the time I get back you better be a happy couple, or I swear to the gods I may just help Y/N find a way to break this bond.”

She took a deep breath, exhaling harshly through her nose in an attempt to calm herself. “I know just what it feels like to have a broken bond, Geralt, and I will do anything I can to prevent someone else from feeling like that. But this? You’re destroying her, and I don’t know which is worse: What you’re doing to her or a broken bond. Don’t make me find out.”

With that, the mage spun on her heel with a sharp gesture, opening a portal to Aretuza. She stepped through, turning back to spare Geralt one last vicious glance before raising her hand to close the portal. As the circle shrunk, she glared at the Witcher before saying one last time, “Fix this.”

Geralt sighed as she disappeared, running a hand over his face. Cursing under his breath he made his way back to the tent, freezing in the entrance. You were asleep in Yennefer’s bed. Slowly he made his way over to you, heart sinking as he saw the tear tracks on your face. He reached out to wipe them away, stopping just shy of your skin. He swallowed harshly before clenching his fist, withdrawing his hand before turning and making his way to his own bed. Sleep didn’t come easy to him that night, every conversation the two of you had had playing over and over in his mind before he finally drifted off into darkness.

**~*~*~*~**

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