#implied future geraskier

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✨I Saw You Staring✨

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CW: description of violence/injury

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Description: Geralt learns a bit about Jaskier’s past, and realised he may not be the pampered rich kid he thought he was

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The path doesn’t offer much in the way of privacy. Most of the time you’re sleeping outside after walking all day, so modesty tends to be thrown out the window pretty early on. Jaskier learnt this the hard way. Sure, he wasn’t exactly used to the life of a noble anymore, but at the very least he usually managed to fall into bed with someone who didn’t have to watch him bathe (although sometimes that was fun...).

He’d been travelling with Geralt for just under 2 weeks when his resolve finally broke.

“Geralt!” He shouted at the man riding on top of a chestnut coloured mare. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I need a bath. Is there a river or something near here?”

“Finally realised there’s not many options for cleanliness out here?” Geralt smirked at him. He fucking smirked. As though he’d been waiting for this for days, which he probably had.

“You don’t have to look so smug about it, let’s just find somewhere and get it over with. I fear I’m beginning to smell like one of those monsters you hunt.”

A few minutes later, Geralt walked them over to a small clearing with a stream nearby. He dismounted and began rooting through his bags for an apple for Roach. Meanwhile Jaskier, who cared more about being clean than being stark naked in front of another man, was already beginning to strip off his clothes and fold them on the grass. Geralt began to turn away to offer the bard at least a small amount of privacy, when he saw a messy scar on the left side of the bards chest. It looked as though it was from a knife, or possibly a sword. The bard looked no older than 18, how could someone have tried to kill him already?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Jaskier rushing into the stream and dunking under the water. He quickly shook his head and carried on feeding Roach, trying to push down the feeling of...sadness? Was that the right word? It wasn’t like he actually liked the bard. Just didn’t particularly want him to die. Or get hurt. Or lose the best years of his life travelling with a Witcher when he could be playing at courts, he was more than talented enough.

Oh fuck, Geralt liked the bard.

“Are you going to ask, then?” Jaskier called from the stream, almost making Geralt flinch.

“Ask about what?”

“My scar. I saw you staring. I’m sure you of all people are used to being asked about things like that.”

Geralt tried not to cringe at that. He was used to it, his body was littered with scars from various monsters and people he’d encountered over the years. It’s not something he’d wish on anybody.

“How did it happen? Get into a fight over a doublet?”

Jaskier huffed a laugh at that. “No, not quite. More of a family dispute, I suppose.”

Geralt watched Jaskier, indicating for him to continue.

The bard sighed, but carried on. “Jaskier isn’t my real name. My birth name is Julian Alfred Pankratz. Quite the mouthful, I know. I was also born with a title, Viscount of Lettenhove. I’m a noble, or was a noble I suppose. My title isn’t exactly mine anymore.”

The Witcher furrowed his eyebrows, wondering how one could just stop being a noble. Before he could ask, Jaskier continued his story.

“My parents were horrid people at the best of times. Filled with resentment towards me and my sisters, always trying to get us to follow in their footsteps and do things their way. I just wanted to play music, I didn’t want that responsibility or pressure.” Jaskier stopped speaking for a moment, his face turned towards the water below him as though he was trying to hide his emotion. Geralt wasn’t sure if he knew that Witcher’s could sense it, and Geralt could feel his deep sadness. He thought it best not to mention it.

“I get my love of people from my mother. She was always incredibly social, both at parties and in her bed, so I didn’t see much of her as a child. Not that I minded. But her habits made my father incredibly angry, as I’m sure you can imagine. He started to question everything she did, mostly while he was drunk, including the legitimacy of his children. I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.”

“Hm.” Not the most articulate response, but Geralt didn’t want Jaskier to feel as though he had to stop telling his story.

“One night, after a particularly large amount of beer, my father confronted her about it while she was trying to introduce me to some Princess. No doubt trying to arrange a marriage of some sort. She was mortified, and they started screaming at eachother. Eventually she’d had enough and claimed I wasn’t his biological child in front of everyone. Needless to say he was angry and drunk and those things mixed with a knife doesn’t exactly bode well.” He gestured to his chest. “So I ran away, they disowned me, I almost died, and now I’m a bard.”

He said that last sentence in such a blasé way compared to the rest of the story that Geralt couldn’t stop the shocked expression that crept into his face.

“How old were you?” Geralt asked.

“15. So I’ve been on my own for 3 years. Until I met you.” Jaskier smiled at Geralt before ducking his head under the water to rinse his hair. The corner of Geralts mouth turned up a little at that. He felt an overwhelming urge to protect the young troubadour. Something he’d not felt before.

As he watched Jaskier walk out of the stream and begin to dress, he vowed that the man would never be alone again.

And for a long time, he wasn’t.

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Hope you enjoyed! Have a look at my AO3 if you’re interested!

Songs used for this prompt: 

“She’s Got You” and “Sure as Hell Not Jesus”, both by Cosmo Jarvis

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The guy playing some tiny stringed instrument and singing into the bar’s beer-scented microphone is surprisingly cute. Geralt feels a pang of guilt when he takes a moment to listen to the lyrics that fill the room up to the rafters with heavenly sound:

“I don’t care what you do, She says she’s in love with you But I know the devil wears a thousand faces.”

Geralt orders himself a straight whiskey on the rocks and moves closer to the makeshift stage to better hear the words. It feels as if they’ve been crafted especially for him; especially for the situation he’s come to find himself in. 

“So what you telling me, That you found love truly, But let go or you’ll forget the basics... “Like who’s your friends, you know, The ones you always told you trusted; But you’re a double agent.”

The singer has soft, feathery brown hair that sits against his forehead like something out of a 2007 emo calendar shoot and eyes the color of... well fuck me, Geralt thinks, those are the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. 

Whoever this guy is, he’s at least five years or so younger than Geralt, still with a babyish roundness to his face, but his hands move across the strings with the confidence of a seasoned performer. He’s been doing this awhile and he loves it. Geralt can tell by the way his voice wavers and pitches through the lyrics like he’s living every word for the very first time.