#geraskierfic

Flower shop au - Geralt needs a bouquet to say ‘fuck you’

Don’t mind this stream of consciousness rant. It’s a mess but so are they 🤷🏻

Geralt storming in and Jaskier has fucking flowers in his hair and it’s not some traditional hippy shit flower crown. They look like they ended up there over hours of work, plucking things here and there. There is even what he thinks is a dandelion behind his ear. What flower store sells dandelions? Jaskier is excited as ever because the language of flowers is so wonderfully poetic and isn’t that just beautiful? To speak to another with nature’s first language. Geralt’s just staring at him like he is insane, though he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t oddly endearing really. He ends up leaving with a pretty beautiful arrangement but it does have certain ‘fuck you’ vibes that Geralt can’t properly explain. He also finds out later that several of the flowers caused the persons chambers to smell HORRIFYING when the flowers began to die and others dropped pollen everywhere that stained a lot of things. It’s like 3 punches in one and he will admit he’s impressed. He doesn’t mean to end up going back, but he keeps on running into the damn flowers. It’s like Jaskier and dandelions are following him. To events and lords chambers, even Yen gets on the Jaskier train cause the boy has style and she’s about to go all out for her anniversary with Tissaia. Getting that woman to blush is hard, but Jaskier nails it and Yen sort of won't shut up about him. To the point that he’s at a fucking dinner party Yen refuses to let him skip. They are seated side by side and while he isn’t coated in flowers this time, he still has a distinct floral smell that isn’t overwhelming as much as it is oddly charming and perhaps even a little comforting. He’s bright eyed and sharp as a whip, he can keep up with Yen’s humour and Ciri’s already signing him up as another found family member.

Usually Geralt would brood in the corner, which he does a bit, Jaskier half teases him about it as the group splits up after dinner. A glass of wine in his hands, his cheeks just a little pink. Geralt grunts some kind of response as Jaskier settles himself on the side of the large old reading chair Geralt always favours when he comes over. Jaskier talks about the flowers he put together for Yen, about love and loss and how nature can be astoundingly beautiful just as it can be cruel. He’s making metaphors like an actual mad man, which would piss Geralt off, except somehow it doesn’t. In fact he feels his lips curl a little as Jaskier continues to ramble, watching the way the light from the hearth turns his sea blue eyes shades of pale green and stormy navy. He’s like a hummingbird Geralt thinks. Almost like a fae but not the annoying kind he has to kill every other day, he is otherworldly but with a strange kind of grounding nature that brings a sense of ease to Geralt’s heart. It takes a few more months for Geralt to realise he has actual feelings. But now he’s helping out at the shop because they’ve had coffee a few times and Jaskier has come over to help Geralt with some issues with his greenhouse he keeps to make it easier to create potions at home. Each time Jaskier gives him flowers to take home, and Ciri makes note of it. Geralt won’t admit to actually rather liking being given them, so he doesn’t look at the deeper meaning.

It sort of hits him like a truck, he gets a call from Ciri late one night and all he can hear is her tone, Jaskiers name and wherever the fuck they are. He meets them at the shop, because Jaskier has a little flat above it and the two had been heading out to grab dinner. Ciri’s girlfriend is doing her masters and lives in the same area so the two had been getting dinner whenever Loni her gf had to stay late. That evening however Jaskier on his way to meet Ciri had been mugged. He was okay, his fight or flight mode hadn’t kicked in well and he’d half fought back while also standing like a deer in headlights. So he’s got a growing black eye, some scratches and a split lip. Geralt’s pretty sure he didnt breathe once until he actually saw him. Jaskier is in his arms before either of them know it’s happening. He can feel Jaskier shaking from the shock of it all and Geralt’s running his fingers through his hair, noting the way leaves and flower petals cascade around them as he does. He stays the night, watching Jaskier sleep, fighting so hard not to go and hunt the bastards who did this. What ends up stopping him is the notebook he finds in the kitchen when he goes to get himself some water, it’s just a list of dates and descriptions, it shouldn’t make sense. He reads the cluster of meanings, borage- bluntness, direct. While Camellia - you’re adorable, chamomile (one that pops up very very regularly) patience in adversity. White clover - think of me. Gardenia’s - secret love. Honey suckle- bonds of love. But as Geralt reads on it starts to click into place. There is so much, he looks at the last date, remembering back to the week before when Geralt had come in, truly exhausted after a long hunt and longer bullshit with the elderman who owed him coin. To find Jaskier surrounded by wilting flowers,face in his hands, too caught up within thought to notice the bell ringing or Geralt entering the back room. He’d had a call from his parents. The ones he never talked about because they were rich and powerful and thought Jaskiers trade was foolish and beneath his birth rights. That his university degree had gone to waste and that in general he was not fit to be their child or lay claim to their name (which he hadn’t done in a long time.)

Geralt wakes Jaskier up with coffee and breakfast. He looks so soft in the morning light. Insane bed head and a banged up face that Geralt wants to kiss more than he’s ever wanted to do anything else. While he’s fighting with himself on the thought Jaskier leans over the tea tray and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips as a thank you. He tastes like wild berry jam and milky sweet tea on the tray lay three Camellia’s, pink, red and white. Jaskier grins, holding each one up and explaining the meaning, though for once he knows Geralt already knows. ‘Longing for you, you’re a flame in my heart, you’re adorable.’ Geralt’s never been good with words, so it’s a relief to be allowed another language to explain his love. It’s part of what drew him to Jaskier, someone who said so much but seemed to inherently understand the need and worth of silence.

Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: The Witcher (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Countess de Stael Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Countess de Stael Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Slow Burn, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, He Has The Range, Alternate Universe - Canon, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Says "I Love You", Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion Summary:

Witchers don’t have soulmates. That’s been true for as long as Geralt’s been alive, a necessary sacrifice for a life spent on the Path. There’s no place for the attachments that humans define themselves by.

It may not be worth it to Geralt, but love has always been the single most motivating force in the world for Jaskier. Unrequited or not, he’s a bard, and there’s a story to be told. He’ll be the one to tell it.

(Who’s the more tragic figure here? The loved or the unloving?)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887546

Not only is Jaskier renowned for his songs and compositions, but he offers love and relationship advices as well. Unbeknownst to him, his witcher companion listens attentively.

Jaskier is a free spirit. He thrives in adventure and music. Though he charms the crowd in seemingly bizarre ways and ends up being thrown leftovers and scraps at the end of his performance, he’s still passionate in his craft.

It was a great contrast to Geralt, who may simply brood in one corner while drinking tavern beer. He’s content and finds no pleasure in chasing the spotlight. However, roads are mysterious and you encounter creatures of broad ranges—from wizards, revengeful humans, and beasts, to poets who would choose you to be their muse.

Journeys suddenly took a different turn. You spend decades travelling with a mare, but with a bard now strumming and humming occasionally, all that’s left to do is to be attuned to the new environment. Entering villages and being greeted with curious eyes was a routine, but music being a new addition bore fruit to wonder instead of horrid gasps.

This late afternoon was no different, apart from the occasion wherein Geralt acknowledges this (in his words) less obnoxious side of Jaskier.

“Alright folks! That shall be the last performance for this hour as I have to appease my hunger and not miss dinner. Any reviews?” The bard took his canister, counting and internally wishing that the coins are enough to last a few days, “comments? Anything will do?”

“You’re a poet and a musician. The songs you sing speak of ideals, and pain. I trust that you’ve experienced such emotions as well, yes?” A man sitting on a nearby table spoke to him. He was of average height, and his clothes reflect the occupation he practices. There was a certain level of weariness in his eyes, one that drives a person wondering what he went through.

“Of course,” Jaskier responded, optimism sparking in his tone. “Love and heartbreak are universal truths,”

“I see,” His voice was clear, but his words were hesitant, “but what if it’s been 7 years, and it no longer feels the same to you? You come home from a long day of mining and you’re more excited for dinner.”

Solemn whispers leading to prolonged silence now replaced the bickering and cacophony of conversations that hovered around each area of the bar. Eyes stared out of sympathy while others are drowning in their own personal thoughts. The light coming from the sunset continued to stream through the windows, but their minds are clouded in grey.

“You look at her and you see a friend, and not a wife.”

Jaskier stared at the man in the similar way a gardener stares at a wilting flower. It was a concern that needs a blanket of wisdom to fall upon it. He was younger and less experienced, but he has more journeys to learn from. He rummaged his mind for answers, but also acknowledging that he could only attest to what he is capable of.

“Well,” he began, with traces of reluctance in his voice but still earnest, “relationships are a process. It takes sacrifices, commitment, and even quarrelsome nights where you begrudgingly have to sleep side by side.”

His eyes shortly came across the corner where the witcher is seated, stunned that his gaze were pointing towards his direction too.

“Creativity is important too, in order to rekindle the passion.” Jaskier continued, “It’s something that is commonly forgotten. Tales always end in happy-ever-afters, but what comes after that? Will the zest in life that used to be there just vanish?”

The depth and the provoking uncertainty for the future which the question brought out also made Geralt contemplate. Even though a witcher can die from grave injuries, he was immortal in an ageless sense. He has lived for decades—witnessing change in societies and how conflicts unfold. He learnt about alchemy, medicine, herbs and elixirs, and how to lift curses. Albeit that, he lived in solitary means, preferring not to pick his nose on other’s personal matters. He has yet to learn more about relationships on top of that.

Age is not the only factor for maturity. Geralt is aware he has his own issues that he must solve to be at peace within. To hear Jaskier’s take in such matters piqued his interest and curiosity. After all, he is not as foolish as what people think social creatures ought to be.

Such was the reason as to why the witcher himself was flabbergasted when Jaskier’s stare seemingly asked the question “What would you do if it were you?”.

“Have you tried establishing a new routine? Maybe, a weekend away? Or reintroducing yourself, the same way you first met her?” Jaskier now sat beside the man, offering a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Flowers are still special no matter how old is the person who receives it.”

The man sighs, somewhat weary and somewhat enlightened, “I’ll try, and thank you for your time.”

“Then I shall be on my way,” Jaskier then whispers, “my dearest is out in the crowd tonight,”

Jaskier heads towards Geralt’s table, opting to steal some of his companion’s platter, a habit he developed after learning that witchers can go on longer than humans even in times where food and other source of vitality is lacking. Several times, he was met with annoyed grunts in response to his behavior.

“So, Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf,” Jaskier starts, already picking up a mouthful of bread, “if it was you, what would you do?”

Here comes the dreaded, Geralt thought—eyes lost in the depth of his ideas and possibilities.

“I’ve learned from my past ventures is that if you aren’t actively building and maintaining a structure, it will actively fall apart.” Geralt continued, “Even though a relationship is already established, it doesn’t mean it’s over, and being too comfortable will cause more dullness and loss of spark.”

In spite of the myth that says witchers have no emotions, they lived by their own principles.

Jaskier lips curved softly, “If I knew you had that insight, I would have encouraged you to speak earlier.”

When Geralt is cursed to hear peoples thoughts, he's fairly sure reading Jaskiers mind will be essentially like talking to him. After all, Jaskier constantly blurts out whatever comes into his head with no filter.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Additional Tags: Smut, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Morning Sex, Somnophilia, Consensual Somnophilia, pre negotiated kink, Geraskier Kink Bingo (The Witcher), card B, field D2 Summary:

Geralt is sent to watch over Jaskier a Mythology teacher at Oxford.

I am putting this up to see if people even want me to bother with it so 🤷🏻

He’s so impossibly beautiful it makes the wolf’s heart ache. His glasses slipping down his delicate nose, brown curls an utter mess because he’s been running his hands through it idly for hours now. Geralts been watching the man for a few weeks now. He’s a suspected target, a fancy word for, this pretty boy is bait. Oxford is a rather pleasant place to camp out, considering some of the places Geralt has been lately, watching a beautiful professor for days on end inside fire warm rooms, indulging himself in the mans chamomile and honey sweet scent. He’s counting himself lucky.

Jaskier naturally had no idea about any of this, he’s been a professor of mythological studies for a few years now. While his subject matter covers a lot of rather dangerous cases, he’s never come close to being in actual danger. His battles are read in the depths of the library, not out in the wilds like some of his friends who chose to do field work studies. For one it would mean Jaskier would have to give up his fine easier costs, suits and wonderful jumpers and no thank you. He was all too fond of his wardrobe. Jakier likes his life, his students are a dream to teach, eating up his every word, the paper he’s been writing is coming along nicely and if he plays his cards right he may just romance the new library assistant into an evening of fine wine. With the protection of the college mages he believes his teachings on the more recent occurrences of occult magic and their capabilities of conjuring dark entities will bring him no harm. The poor boy couldn’t be any less wrong.

Yen is the one who get’s Geralt the job, she’s been freelancing for oxford for a while now, with the rise in varying schools of magic over the recent years the way her order works has had to adapt. Almost no one stayed at a post for too long, with Witcher’s on the decline and unknown magics raging war around the world Yennefer and her fellow mages had their hands full. Geralt himself had been overwhelmed with work as of late, for once the idea of protection duty actually sounded nice. Though the dark creatures that he was tasked with protecting Jaskier from rather took away from the holiday like experience Oxford otherwise promised.

The campus was crawling with magical beings, many the kind that were simple pests Geralt wouldn’t mind swatting, however the rules of the damn college gave the creatures safe passage. The students and teachers studied them and as payment the creatures were given a safe space to reside. They had a Kelpie in the lake for fucks sake. Though when Geralt had visited it, he was glad to see that it seemed entirely uninterested in eating him, though it was delighted to meet roach. Things were going oddly well for a solid month of Geralt's protection duty, during winter Witcher’s tended to return to their training grounds, while Geralt no longer followed such traditions he did tend to leave the wilds when the frosts set in. Getting paid to stay indoors with fires and good food wasn’t something he was going to complain about anytime soon. The people at the college were perfectly pleasant, watching Jaskiers classes were in general rather amusing, the mans love for his subject matter was highly evident as his excitement bubbled from him in every lesson. It was rather endearing really, the way his ocean blue eyes would light up at a particularly tricky question posed to him by a student. When the man wasn’t teaching he tended to be stuck in dusty corners of the library or in his own quarters, frantically writing and reading. That wasn’t to say Jaskier was a saint, no, Geralt had spent many a night watching the gorgeous young thing drinking at the university tavern, chatting up men and women alike, he was rather popular, though on more than one occasion Geralt had helped Jaskier escape a jealous partner who had gone after Jaskier for dipping his hand into someone else’s box of sweets. He was discreet of course, Jaskier had no idea he had a guardian angel, if Geralt had it his way he never would.

That was the thing with a world of Monster and chaos, one rarely got their way and so it was that half way through a presentation on a collection of relics Jaskier had surprised the head of his faculty with, that Jaskier almost fell prey to a corrupted Jorogumo. The Yokai was clever, she had masked herself well, with the scent of magical creature so thickly wound into the damn campus Geralt had needed to use his other senses to detect his prey. As the pretty woman beside him burst open, enormous spiders legs unfurling from her back, an inhuman scream tearing from her lips, Geralt was already pushing Jaskier behind him, barking a ‘FUCK OFF’ to the other equally shocked staff as they scrambled to get out of the way and escape.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide as Geralt, his silver hair flashing in the twilight, stood over him, his silver sword slashing through the air before him. “Stay close” he growled at Jaskier, before he dodged to the side, drawing the woman’s poison oozing mandibles as far from Jaskier as he could. While Jorogumo were a bit of a handful on a good day, a corrupted one was something all together, Geralt’s eyes flooded black as he side stepped another attack, the glass bottle in his hand smashing across the floor. She moved with a grace that Geralt would have admired if she wasn’t trying to kill him. There was so much to watch with this kind of creature. Her objective was to capture Jaskier with her web, something she could do even while bound in combat. Geralt was fast, casting signs to push her back, his teeth gritting as he met her claws with his blade, the dark magics within her allowing her exoskeleton to act more like armour. He would have to be clever, to strike the woman’s body, hanging in the middle of it’s form. In the end it was Jaskier who allowed him to make the fatal blow. As he and the creature went toe to toe, parrying each blow, crushing one another into the ancient stone of the hall, Jaskier had scuttled back to gather his bags, inside he kept several potions, which, if mixed just so could be of use for such situations. While he wasn’t a trained fighter, he wasn’t foolish enough to study monsters without any form of protection.

“HIRUMI!” Through the haze of his potion Geralt blinked as the creature slowed, dropping him as she turned towards Jaskiers a feral grin spreading her too wide mouth into a horrifying expression, her long teeth red with blood. Jaskier had poured a potion of some kind all over himself, the scent drew as Geralt's senses for a moment, he felt the beast within him shift, his nose raised to the air, the man's scent utterly intoxicating. He really was making himself bait. He had used a scenting spell that made it near impossible for magical beings to resist him. In her haste to get to her prize, the creature lost her footing, allowing Geralt a moment to strike, one he took with precise action, slicing through the soft space between her front legs, dragging himself up as she began to rear back Geralt let out a growl as he watched Jaskier run forwards, drawing the woman’s attention once more, as Geralt pressed his blade through her heart. The creature collapsed upon the two men, coating them in black acrid blood, pinning them to the stone flagstones.

As Jaskier panted, a gentle groan emerging from his chest as he pushed one of her legs from him, he turned, looking as Geralt through smashed glasses, “Suppose this is about as good a time as any to introduce myself?” Geralt gave the young man a grunt in response, pushing the dead carcass from his sword. Once on his feet he pulled Jaskier up, pulling at his clothing to check for wound marks. “Or you could manhandle me, that’s fine too. You know if you want to know if I am inured you could just ask?” Jaskier chimed, black blood dripping onto his cheek as Geralt's hands stilled, his thumb settling over a red mark towards the back of Jaskiers neck. “When did you get this?” Geralt growled, cursing under his breath as he looked at the wound site.

“Oh that? Sometime yesterday? Hirumi was helping me unpack the relics I was… oh.” Jaskier stopped, his eyes going wide as he looked over the obliterated room around them. “The Relics! There are utterly destroyed! Fuck, they were on lend from Cambridge. They are going to have an utter field day, it been hard eno-.” “JASKIER.” Geralt interrupted, drawing Jakiers gaze back to the man who’s strong hands were fisted in his jacket. “Yes well see it’s just a little bug bite, when you deal with old books and relics you can’t help but end up with creepy crawlies.” He admitted, watching as the dark color in Geralt's face slowly began to retract.His eyes shifting from black to gold. Realising all too late that he was in the presence of an actual Witcher.

“That’s why I couldn’t smell her.” Geralt cursed, glancing over his shoulder before he slid his sword back into its hilt and started to make his way towards the door, Jaskier in tow. “Shouldn’t we do something about that?” Jaskier squeaked, glancing over his shoulder as part of the ceiling rained down onto the dead monster. “Your people have people ready for this kind of thing, we need to get you to a mage.” Geralt growled.

So what about a modern Au where Jaskier is a dorky spectacle wearing Professor at Oxford

- He specialises in mythology, monsters ect. His student love him, his lectures are exciting, he brings things to life in a way no one else does.

- Geralt is sent to protect him because there are a large number of corrupted monsters popping up and Jaskier is somehow linked. Geralt usually would refuse this sort of thing, but once he see’s who he’s keeping safe he changes his tone rather fast. Plus it’s winter and it’s nice to be out of the cold.

- Jaskier ends up getting into trouble with a shape shifting demon because while he may be a dork he has a silver tongue and eyes for all the humans #disaster pansexual hello

-Jaskier is part siren (it’s just canon for me at this point in future au’s let’s be real) which is why he’s being targeted, as in the future they are trying to figure out how to control these beasts and believe a hybrid like Jaskier could.

- Jaskier with fluffy curls in suspenders, vests and jumpers. Soft dorky academic Jaskier heaven.

-Sassy Jaskier drinking too much coffee and heart eyesing Geralt at all times. His hair a perpetual mess from him running his hand through it. Ink stained fingers.

- Geralt spends a month watching Jaskier before anything goes down and may fall for the beautiful idiot over that time. Jaskier has no idea.

- Yen is a part of the council who is trying to clean up this mess and assigns Geralt to Jaskier.

-Cute times at Oxford, deep leather sofa’s, Jaskier falling asleep in his glasses. Geralt carrying piles of books around for Jaskier, looking pissed off but silently loving it.

- Ciri turns up at some point after dealing with some monster issues at the edge of the world and meets a cute girl who’s doing her masters and they fall in love.

- Jaskier adores Ciri but is also fascinated by her abilities and the two sit up for hours ranting about things she can do and has seen.

I am a slut for modern AU’s more than most, buuuut, what about prehistory AU’s

Geralt is using fucking flint, he makes his own weapons and the types of monsters are closer to strange old gods, the dying remnants of creatures that helped forge the earth humans are now just settling upon.

Jaskier collects stories, song is only rather recent and he works with both, weaving together tales to share the stories to each new clan he meets, his kind are rare but dearly beloved, for without books the only way to learn of what happens in their strange new world is from these precious story tellers.

Ciri is the daughter of the most powerful clan in the small set of clans throughout the region, while hunting one day Geralt saves her father and as it goes in the story he promises all he can, that which he does not have yet, but when the two return home he will give. Geralt takes it because he cannot work for coin, he trades in this and that but his people are newer, the magical folk of the lands are still shrouded in so much mystery and mutants like himself are even more misunderstood.

Jaskier hears of the Witcher and decides to seek him out, to find this man with eyes the shade of the moon on the night of the solstice, with hair the color of lightening and the child of destiny who travels with him.

Even with just clothing of animal skins and tanned leathers Jaskiers always got bloody flowers in his hair because he could make anything cute, he doesn’t need silks to do that. His mind is an amazing library of stories he has been collecting since he was a small child, kept by the folk of his clan after the death of his mother in childbirth. Their groups healer had passed on years before and it is rare that another came through their area. Used to being displaced he takes to the Witcher’s lifestyle easily, he watches as Geralt teaches his young charge how to make spears, to hunt, to skin animals. The nature of it all is something else to Jaskier, never having anyone to teach him as he grew up, it warms his heart to see this.

Then at the edge of the world they meet elves, they have magic, a type that seems freer and wilder than the little humans have been able to manage. Though over time they would learn otherwise. Jaskier drinks in every moment, even as Geralt worries over what this will mean, knowing how badly he is received in the small communities he visits even after he has rid them of the vermin attacking their kin. He doesn’t want Jaskier to share his tales, the elves kept to their part of the world and the humans to the other.

Watching the world form would be the greatest tale Jaskier could imagine and he writes songs that follow for hundreds of years onwards. Words that become the first to be inked into the original books. The tales of the white wolf, the Girl who could call the world to its knees, who flashed through time like lightening and as he grows too old to travel, in a home Geralt has built for them all, Ciri returns to share with him the beautiful books she has found that have his words printed in gold. She reads his words back to him as he settles against Geralts chest, always so solid, so warm, his hair is so long now it falls in a curtain down his back, tickles Jaskiers cheeks as his eyes slide shut. Tears prickling the edges. His songs, for that is what they called them, his ballads of truth had become something else so many lifetimes past his own. Geralt’s scarred fingers are gentle as they stroke through his hair, his eyes never leaving his lovers face, Ciri’s hand resting on her fathers linked fingers, the family that spans so many lifetimes, forever bound by a shared history, the very first history of their world. She doesn’t tell him of the wars with the elves, his tales of them locked away in his mind, of the wild hunt, of the man she met one day, with eye’s the color of the sea, his voice curling through a crowd in tune with a lute he held with such precision. The touch of a sirens magic weaving its way through his words. Words that came almost too easily to him.

She had no way of explaining how it came to be. That her human father was both a part of her entire past and yet the most distant of futures, but in the haze of dawn as Jaskier was tucked into bed and Geralt moved to check the fire she watches with relief, knowing the heartbreak he father would suffer would not last forever, for it seemed destiny would never quite be done with the Lark and the Wolf. Their lifetimes were bound for this eternity into the next.

And one day, when she returns to find the moss eating it’s way along the crude rock carved in place on the hill Geralt place over her fathers grave she lays a garland of yellow flowers upon the grass, her green eyes bright “He waited for you once song bird, the wolf is a creature of the deepest strength and love, he will again.”