#geraskier pirates

“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”

“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”

Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”

----------------------------------------

Jaskier cleaned up nice.

And he deserved to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.

The Captain was going to absolutely die when he saw Jaskier.

He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”

“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”

“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.

“Impossible.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.

Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols twice last week and Geralt was repaying him with public humiliation? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.

“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.

“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”

“Correct. Wonderful.”

Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is drama. This is entertainment!”

“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.

“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you will be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”

“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.

“Captain,” the second mate nodded.

“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.

“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”

“You.”

“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”

Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”

“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “Why not go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”

The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”

“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.

“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”

“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the mouth for fuck’s sake.”

“I thought it was an accident.”

“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating.”

“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”

“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”

“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the Kaer Morhen and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”

“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”

“He does love that nickname.”

“It’s not an endearment.”

“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. This was the part he’d been waiting for! Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”

“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a pat really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”

“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”

“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. Then you’ll be part of my crew.”

“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”

“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”

“Even the red one?”

“Especially the red one.”

Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”

Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again. The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.

“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”

Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.

“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”

“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”

____________________________

Geralt could not find his dark red kerchief anywhere. It had been a favorite accessory of his since he’d picked it off a silk-trading ship last year and it did a damn good job of keeping his long white hair out of his eyes. He had others that he could wear but the red one was special and being a superstitious sailor, he’d prefer to have it back in his possession.

But it was missing! On a ship! It had to be in his cabin somewhere, because where else could it possibly be? After a solid ten minutes of searching, the Captain gave up. He grabbed a strip of purple fabric from the chest at the end of his bed and used that to tie his hair back instead. 

I hope that damned thing turns up so-

Oh, there it was. It was swinging through the rigging on Jaskier’s head. The aggravating young noble had clearly spent time arranging his hair to make it stand out; there was no other way to make the kerchief so painfully obvious. The sun was practically glaring off the shiny material as he moved around the top of the ship’s mainmast like a seasoned professional. 

“Jaskier!”

“Aye, Captain?”

He’d taken to using more nautical language lately and Geralt wasn’t sure if he enjoyed it or if it grated on his nerves. Perhaps a bit of both. Does the lad think he’s staying forever? “Get down here.”

With a short series of death-defying and heart-stopping maneuvers, Jaskier dropped gracefully to the deck in front of his Captain. He hooked his hands together behind his back and smiled sweetly up at Geralt. “Aye, sir?”

“Give it back.”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“Give. It. Back.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but you’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

The twinkling of those siren’s eyes and the quirking of his mouth suggested that Jaskier knew exactly what Geralt was asking for and was still playing the fool. The Captain rolled his eyes and reached out to take the strip of fabric out of the idiot noble’s hair but suddenly Jaskier was gone. He’d scurried back up into the rigging and disappeared against the blue of the sky. “Give my kerchief back, Jaskier!”

“Why? Is your hair so lustrous and thick that you need two ties to hold it back? Perhaps it’s time for a haircut, Captain.”

“I’m coming up there and then you’ll be sorry.”

Geralt had quite forgotten that they had an audience in his crew. Eskel and Lambert were close to tears from holding back their laughter and a few of the others were hiding grins as well. 

The White Wolf reached out to take hold of a rope and found it suddenly loose and useless in his hands. Jaskier had pulled it straight out of the rigging. Geralt growled and took hold of the rope ladder that connected the deck to the mizzenmast. His prey still danced and jigged atop the yardarm of the mainmast, the Captain’s red silk tie flickering in the wind as he did. 

At last the pirate reached the top and yanked Jaskier down to meet him. “I’m going to throw you headfirst into the sea.”

“Ah, but Captain,” the young noble smiled, leaning only slightly back into the empty air. Geralt’s arm went around his waist immediately to prevent him from falling to his death on the deck below. Jaskier grinned like the cat that caught the mouse, “I think you’d miss me if you threw me overboard.”

Geralt’s mouth went dry as the blue-eyed sea nymph leaned ever closer. 

“I think you would miss me rather a lot, hmm?”

“I don-”

---

Jaskier would forever covet the memory of Valdo Marx’s face when he swung across the short distance between their ships and landed on the deck with a graceful thud. 

“Hand over your finery and cargo and we’ll happily be on our way, good sirs.”

“J-Julian?” the other, lesser poet gasped. “You can’t be serious! I thought I’d heard a rumor that you’d run off to join the circus but piracy? Oh, dearest Julian, this is just too good.”

“Did you read the name of my ship, good sir?” Jaskier asked, drawing his cutlass rather casually. “I’m not just any pirate.”

Geralt crossed the boarding planks behind him, then. He felt the weight of those strong hands on his hips and he smirked. Valdo’s face went pale and rigid with anger, shock, hatred, humiliation, and was that jealousy? Jaskier loved each and every one of the other man’s disbelieving expressions.

Well, he had dressed Geralt up a little bit this time. He was wearing the black velvet coat, the tight trousers, the shiny black boots and his most impressive hat. Standing next to Jaskier, who’d stuck with a plain white shirt and breeches (while barefoot of course, he hated shoes) he made a rather stunning picture. 

They made a rather stunning picture.

Jaskier personally held Valdo at sword-point while Geralt and the others unloaded the ship of its valuables. They were carrying cloth, honey, gold, and even some more exotic wines and liquors from Redania. Things Jaskier was familiar with. He nonchalantly quoted price estimates to the crew as they passed with certain items, only serving to make Valdo angrier and Geralt more impressed. 

The risk of danger had been well worth their reward. 

Once the ship was empty and the boarding planks were nearly all pulled back to the deck of the Kaer Morhen, Jaskier lowered his sword and slid it back into his belt. “Lovely seeing you again, Valdo. Do send your wonderful Mother my warmest regards.”

“Time to go, little nymph,” the Captain announced, appearing at his side once again. 

“So soon?”

“What are you waiting for, a kiss goodbye?” Valdo snarled. 

“That would be lovely, actually,” Jaskier smirked. Geralt took the hint and grabbed him by the waist for a passionate kiss. It only served to anger the little siren’s rival even more, which is exactly what he’d hoped for. 

“You’re welcome,” Geralt teased when he finally pulled away.

“One more,” Jaskier pouted. “For good measure.”

Still, he raced to the hold and grabbed two pinches of wax from a half-melted tallow candle, carrying them back to the quarterdeck and thrusting them at Geralt. “Quickly, Captain, put this in your ears.”

“What about you?”

“I can’t hear them!”

“What?!” Geralt was shocked. His amber eyes flashed with concern and mild fright but he took the wax from Jaskier and stuffed it into his ears nonetheless. “Why can’t you hear anything?”

Jaskier shrugged. He could have answered aloud but Geralt wouldn’t have been able to hear him anyway. He tied the emergency rope around Geralt’s waist, which was usually only used during torrential storms, and secured the Captain against the wheel. He wandered closer to the railing and peered towards shore. He could barely see them, laying half-in and half-out of the water, their shark-like tails stirring little waves against the surface.

Sirens. 

Their mouths were moving but the ex-noble remained unbothered.

He stayed in that spot until they were well out of range. When it was safe, he returned to Geralt’s side and released him from the helm. “Why can’t you hear them?”

“I don’t know,” Jaskier murmured. The Captain could see how frightened his little nymph really was. The brunette’s hands fisted into the black cloth of Geralt’s shirt. “Please don’t throw me overboard, sir, please!”

“My sweet siren,” Geralt began. “And I can call you that whenever I want since we know for sure now that you have some measure of mer-blood in you; I will never throw you overboard. Your sisters would surely eat you because you were probably the runt of the litter."

"Hey!"

"I jest, Jask."

“My Estate...”

“Landlocked, you told us many times.”

“How?”

“Magic is chaotic,” Geralt shrugged. “No matter. Now we have a creature of the sea on our side.”

“Thinking about that escape in Novigrad...it makes sense,” Eskel added, wandering over. Starkey was close behind and nodding sagely. 

“No wonder you have the Captain so bewitched.”

“Oh no!” Jaskier wrenched himself from the pirate’s comforting arms and backed away, horrified. “Geralt, I didn’t mean to - oh gods what have I -”

“My siren,” the Captain smiled, stepping forward and reaching out for Jaskier’s hand. Eskel and Starkey moved away again, granting the two men some much-needed privacy. “My darling little nymph. My heart and soul would belong to you regardless of your parentage. I think there’s more human in you than siren, anyway. You still can’t hypnotize anyone with your voice or show them their wildest dreams in a song.”

“What did you see when they sang to you?” Jaskier asked, voice almost too quiet to hear. Geralt knew the ex-noble needed some reassurance.

“I saw you.”

“What?”

“When she was putting her spell on me and trying to get me to leap into the waves,” Geralt said, trailing his fingertips down Jaskier’s spine and lighting up every one of the younger man’s nerves. “She sang about you. How lovely she could make you look for me. How pliant she could make you be for me.”

“Oh.” Jaskier blushed. “But you managed to hold back until I brought you the wax.”

---

When the day of Jaskier’s wedding arrived, the young noble felt his heart shatter apart in his chest. The servants dressed and groomed him, trimming the hair he’d worked so hard to grow out while at sea. He knew how much Geralt loved to curl his fingers there and drag them against the smooth skin at the back of his neck. He almost shuddered at the thought of that sensation alone.

But it didn’t matter, did it? He’d never see his darling White Wolf again. 

He’d been grabbed off the street some dingy port town in Temeria and rushed across the straight to Oxenfurt overnight. Geralt probably didn’t even know where he was or who had taken him. Jaskier would probably be on his heavily guarded honeymoon by the time his Captain found him again.

He was ordered downstairs by his Mother and he marched into the great hall for his wedding ceremony with a grim sense of acceptance.

---

“Do you, Countess Rosamund Elise DeStael of Rinde, take Lord Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Lord Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove, take Countess Rosamund Elise DeStael of Rinde to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to answer. He was aching over the loss of his Geralt like a wounded man grieves for a lost limb. Even in he agreed to this marriage he’d be a living corpse, anyhow. He’d never smile again if he said ‘I do’ and accepted the Countess as his wife. She was a piss poor replacement for his mischievous, tender, possessive White Wolf. 

As the silence lengthened in the great hall and his Father glared him down from his place next to the priest, something deep in his chest came bubbling up. It wrenched itself from him, screaming for freedom. 

It was his voice. 

Not his normal voice, however. No. This voice was bright and brassy and dark. It was full of the pain of a thousand drowned sailors. He let it come bursting forth from his mouth, filling the air with words he didn’t know he’d even learned. Words in a language he felt but didn’t understand. 

The priest fell to his knees, as did his father and his would-be wife. Every person in the keep who could hear his voice suddenly fell to the ground and desperately tried to cover their ears. The siren in him had reached its limit. It wanted its beloved mate. His Captain. His Geralt.

He wouldn’t be pacified until they were together again.

Luckily...

“I object!” Lambert yelled. The familiar pirate burst through the doors of the great hall with his cutlass drawn. Starkey and Eskel were close behind, with his darling White Wolf taking up the rear. Three of the four pirates fell to their knees like the rest of the party-goers but Geralt remained standing. 

Jaskier realized that he was still singing. The tone had changed from deep-seated hatred and loss to something brighter and lighter at Geralt’s appearance. Something soft and full of love. He let himself babble out the unfamiliar notes and words as his Captain moved towards him down the aisle. Only when those strong arms held him tightly and those chapped lips pressed against his own did Jaskier cease his singing.

“Sirens,” Eskel groaned, pulling himself to a standing position. “You are not to be fucked with, Jaskier.”

“Wait, Geralt, if I can’t be compelled by sirens then why can my family?”

Lord Pankratz looked guilty and wouldn’t make eye contact with any of the pirates or his son. Geralt shrugged. “Maybe you were a foundling.”

Jaskier turned to his Father with wide, angry eyes. “You absolute bas-”

“My love,” Geralt murmured, tightening his grip on the younger man’s waist. His little nymph stilled in his arms at the sound of his voice. “There’s still a wedding to be had, if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to marry the Countess.”